


True, Strong and Brave

by wakandan_wardog



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Anti wanda maximoff, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Bucky Barnes-centric, Caretaking, Fluff and Angst, Friday Has Had Enough, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hydra (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Tony Stark, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Pre-Relationship, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective james rhodes, Sass, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers Reality Check, Steve Rogers critical, Team Cap Critical, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, de-aged character, no civil war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-05-08 11:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 28,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14693135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakandan_wardog/pseuds/wakandan_wardog
Summary: Bucky Barnes moves into the tower and receives help from an otherwise elusive Iron Man. But when the team gets called out and things go wrong, Steve gets a reality check as to what has been done in his name. Bucky steps up, he's one of the few who can.From the Prompt: "Okay, but, de-aged Tony being terrified of Steve because Captain America is clearly going to think of him the same way Howard does."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shi_Toyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shi_Toyu/gifts).



Bucky’s been back in America, safe and sane and re-armed, for less than 48 hours when the first massive Avengers call-out occurs. Granted, those nearly 48 hours are pretty eventful. In the first hour alone he’d: touched down in the Wakandan Royal Talon fighter on the actual landing pad of Avengers Tower, been greeted by a rumpled billionaire, lead into the craziest basement-workshop-lightshow he’s seen possibly ever, and promptly been granted a limb, access card, and greeting packet. 

Stark had turned him loose after about two hours of tests, claiming he was no longer comfortable monopolizing Captain America’s favorite action figure while the soldier was still in the room. Apparently Steve had an obnoxious expression on the entire time they were working, and Tony was at his maximum for tolerance. The billionaire had finally thrown his hands up in the air and dismissed them. Bucky can’t even blame him, Steve can make some pretty obnoxious, judging-you faces. 

“You know what? I’m done with this. We’ll talk later. You’re free to go, and take the Super-Sulker over there with you.” He’d snapped. “If it locks up, crushes anything, or you smell fudge, come find me.” 

Bucky hadn’t really known what to do with all of that, but Steve had taken it as a dismissal and gently towed him out the door with a muffled thanks. It hadn’t sounded all that genuine, more an afterthought than anything, which didn’t quit sit quite right with Bucky. Then again, he hadn’t been able to articulate much beyond double syllable words and clipped responses to Tony’s questions. Wanting to try and fix it but not knowing how, Bucky had glanced back as he’d been dragged out, watching Tony carelessly toss a wrench at the table without regard for what it crashed into. 

He couldn’t help but think the billionaire had looked a little disheartened by the whole situation. So he had tried to articulate his thanks before the door closed behind him and Steve, though he couldn’t actually get his voice to work. Not that it mattered, Stark gave no real notice of the hesitation, slinking away toward the distantly parked car and three half-assembled motorcycles. They’d left him to it, Steve all too happy to drag Bucky around all the communal areas for the team and introduce him to everyone once again. 

That evening they’d all met a common level and had dinner and watched a movie. 

Well, all except for Stark. As far as the Soldier knew, he had yet to resurface. 

The next day was much of the same. At odds with his new surroundings, Bucky had allowed Steve to show him the ropes. They went for a fifteen mile jog and came back to breakfast. Caught up with the team and then did warmup drills in the tower gym, ran through all the equipment, took showers, and met up with the team again for lunch and various discussions of history, entertainment, and some of the Avengers more interesting callouts. 

Steve and Bucky have retreated to Steve’s floor and settled into the plush arm chairs in his living room to unwind. They’re in the middle of a discussion about Bucky joining the team for callouts when the overhead light flashes blue and an actual alarm blares from one of the hidden speakers. Bucky can practically _see_ Steve start to sweat when the alarm sounds, and cannot physically control his impulse to roll his eyes when the blond man literally leaps to his feet and then fucking _hesitates_. 

“It’s a Code A, get the fuck out of here.” Bucky orders with a flick of his metal hand, pleased that the plates articulate in a smooth shift, all shiny and natural. It’s like having his own hand back, just in the wrong color. Stark sure is something, no wonder they make so much of him. “They’re down Thor, they’re gonna need Captain America. See when you get back, safe fight, get killed and I know a voodoo doctor that’ll bring you back so I can beat your ass, pick me up something nice, bye.” 

If anything that makes Steve even _more_ hesitant, starting and then stopping again, reaching a hand out to him with watery blue eyes. “Uh, Buck? You sure?” 

His best friend is a fuckin’ moron, sometimes. “Jesus, Steve. It’s an automated palatial fucking suite a mile above New York City. It’s _fine_. I’m not gonna suffer a goddamn Winter Soldier relapse here. Trust me, Hydra _never_ had digs this good, and that Wakandan Princess fixed me up. I’m fine, the place is fine, the view would be fine if you’d get your ass _out of it_. So why don’t you go answer whatever is clearly _not fine_ so the alarm’ll shut off?” 

“FRIDAY, Alarm Override Authorization: Captain, Steve Rogers.” 

“Alarm Override Accepted, Captain Spangles.” FRIDAY chirps back, sounding entirely too amused. 

Bucky snorts in spite of himself. “Heh, _Spangles_.” 

Steve ignores him, so does the AI, continuing on in her conversation with the Captain. “The Boss says that the rest of the team is almost to the jet. You can put your glad rags on when you get there, but tick tock or you’re walking.” 

“I-” Steve begins, still waffling with a hand outstretched. 

“The rest of that sentence is ‘am an idiot’.” Bucky interrupts. “He’s going, FRIDAY, tell everyone to hold their horses for forty five seconds and get him the elevator.” 

“It’s already waiting for him, Sargent Barnes.” FRIDAY replies. “And the cool kids say ‘pump your breaks’.” 

“They what now?” 

“Don’t listen to her, she’s trolling you and it was probably Clint’s idea.” Steve answers, sounding like he’s finally unwinding. “She can order you a pizza or something, I don’t know when we’ll be back, but we’ve got coms and FRIDAY can connect you-” 

“You’re _leaving_ , Steven.” Bucky orders, standing up long enough to drag his idiot friend into a hug, slap him on the back, and then pull back and physically push him toward the elevator with his left arm. Big guy or not, Steve moves. 

This new metal hand is a _peach_. 

“I’m leaving.” Steve says obediently, sounding softly amused. “Be safe, Buck. The tower’s fine but I don’t want you doing anything stupid.” 

“You’re the expert on that, Stevie. How about you be safe, ‘cuz you’re the one taking all the stupid with you.” 

“Oh a burn that’s waited seventy years, do you feel better now?” Steve mocks as he backs into the waiting elevator car. 

“Is it a burn when I’m reusing old material?” Bucky pretends to wonder, folding his arms as he watches the door close. “When I want to get you, it’ll be in front of an audience. Bye now.” 

“Bye, Buck.” 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a quick thing. But then it became a birthday present. Also, we've established how good I am at short things, right? Right. So, Happy Birthday to [Shi_Toyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shi_Toyu/profile)
> 
> Also, yes the title is a riff off of the Captain America song. ~~Time for a reality check, Steve.~~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky asks questions, upset his new AI Overlady, makes amends, takes a nap and gets a rude wake-up call...

With the team having vacated the tower, Bucky just takes time to unwind. There’s a definite tension that escapes him when he finally knows he’s alone, and he celebrates it by sprawling on the sofa and staring at the ceiling. It’s good to just be still, be quiet, in this space. For all that he appreciates Steve hauling him out for a run around the area, he’s not quite ready to jump into city life, at least not American city life. Things were easier in Wakanda, without expectations and paparazzi. 

But he’ll adjust, it’s not the worst thing he’s had to do. 

*

Three hours later he cocks an eyebrow at the ceiling, tilts his head, and clears his throat. “FRIDAY?” 

“Soldier.” She chirps back. 

“I don’t really want com-access, don’t wanna distract anyone, but can you tell me how they’re doing?” He wonders, still focusing on the ceiling since it’s easier than talking to thin air. Super-Soldier vision being what it is, he can clearly see the ports installed into the ceiling for her sensors, various cameras and speakers. 

“A HYDRA Base has been located, overtaken, and is in the process of being cleared.” She replies dutifully. “Barton and Romanoff are handing off restrained, captured personnel to Hill and the responding SHIELD team. Wilson and Rhodes are on patrol in the air watching out for any incoming or picking off escaping strays. The Captain has moved on from checking any fallen enemies to brooding heroically in doorways-” 

The AI’s tone pitches a little towards “judgy” when she mentions Steve. Bucky chokes a snort, _man_ does FRIDAY have sass. Then again, it only gets worse as she continues. 

“ _Maximoff_ -” Now the tone is dripping with contempt. “is handling removal of any fallen combatants, Vision is assisting her.” 

Bucky shifts for a moment, wondering if he should ask, before he glances down at the glint of his metal hand and sighs. The information isn’t forthcoming, and he wants to know. “How about Tony?” 

FRIDAY goes tellingly silent, and then responds in a very cool, professional tone that's somehow infinitely worse than her getting spitting mad. “The Boss is doing his **job** , Sargent Barnes. You don’t need to worry about _that_.” 

Ok, Sergeant Barnes. That doesn’t sound good. 

Bucky immediately realizes he made a misstep, though he’s not sure how. It just seemed natural to get stats on all the team, and Tony is certainly a part of the team. Still, the AI seems to take it as a criticism of her creator, and he sure as hell wants to fix it. After all, if nothing else FRIDAY runs the house and he’s at her mercy until the team comes home. Besides, he’s nothing but grateful to Tony, the arm works a treat. 

“Hey now.” He murmurs as gently as he can. “I ain’t doubtin’ that for a second now, Doll. Not for a second, you hear me? Your-” 

Stark? Sounds too formal and dissociative, besides, Bucky has to live with killing two people bearing that name. He owns up to that, he’s got amends to make and an apology to give, but stirring it up with the AI isn’t his best bet. Boss? That seems more FRIDAY’s personal name for Tony, said only with the greatest fondness. Creator? A little biblical, awkward, and presumes some things about FRIDAY and Tony’s relationship that Bucky hasn’t been around long enough to actually confirm. 

“Tony’s part of the team, right?” He finishes at last, stumbling over the name. “I wanna make sure he’s ok. I know he works harder than a lot of people, and maybe he forgets to take care of himself… So I just want to check in. I’m a little worried, FRIDAY, help me out?” 

There’s a definitive sort of silence, considering instead of condemning, before a whisper of static makes Bucky think FRIDAY just sighed. When she speaks again, her tone starts out as reluctant but grows steadily more emotional. 

“It’s Boss’s job to analyze any rogue HYDRA tech, confirm it’s inactive or at the least not harmful, and help box it up. If it isn’t, he gets to break it down into base components so the SHIELD Monkeys don’t get hurt by touching something they oughtn’t. He needs _silence_ on coms when he’s handling rogue material. Because the team bickering in his ear at the wrong time could result in a lot of people getting hurt, _I_ filter all messages to ensure he gets that silence. The _Captain_ doesn’t like it but that’s not my problem.” She pauses, and when she speaks again her voice is soft and worried. “I just care about Boss being safe.” 

_Oh._ Bucky swallows audibly, wishing there was some physical manifestation of FRIDAY he could offer a conciliatory pat to. “Yeah Sweetheart, I understand. You just take care of him, and if Steve says anything, you patch me through.” 

FRIDAY gives a quiet sniffle. “Thank you… Soldier.” 

Well, that doesn’t sound bad at all. 

*

Bucky sits in silence for another hour, fairly certain that FRIDAY will alert him with any further news. Eventually he decides to do something with his time and stands, making his way to the library and browsing the laden shelves. Tony’s got a little bit of everything, from first editions and autographed works to a shelf near the back of the room packed with comic books and graphic novels. There’s a large set of cabinet doors to one side of the shelf, and tugging at a handle Bucky finds that it’s unlocked. The door swings open with an ominous creak –incongruous with the modern house but suitable for all the dark wood shelving in the library- and reveals a dark cavern of space. Bucky blinks in surprise for a moment, squints, and then shakes his head. 

“FRIDAY, am I looking at a secret passage?” 

“Welcome to Narnia, Soldier.” She chirrups back, sounding inescapably fond. “If you’d like to consult the contents of the shelf to your right, the series is there for enjoyment. As far as the cabinet, it leads to the reading room, which does have a double function as a safe room, so please mind the red button.” 

“… Sure, alright.” He mumbles, shaking his head. “Man… Tony sure is something.” 

“I certainly think so, Soldier… _I_ certainly think so.” FRIDAY responds, sounding smug and fond all at once. 

So yeah, maybe Bucky grabs a book off the shelf, and maybe he steps through the cabinet and into a shadowy room. Without prompting FRIDAY dials up the lights, and he can see a literal pillow pit, a pile of beanbag chairs that look like boulders, a full fridge set into the wall and a closed door that he assumes leads to a bathroom. There’s also a couch and a few plush, oversized armchairs scattered about, giving a variety of options to those who might visit. He’s willing to bet the one blank wall is equipped with a projector for movies. 

Bucky shakes his head and then throws himself into the pit of pillows, groaning and sprawling out when he realizes precisely how comfortable they are. 

“Is it ok if I never leave?” He mumbles, face half-smashed into one. 

“I’m sure the Captain would notice.” FRIDAY sounds apologetic. “But I can give him the run around for a few days.” 

Bucky smiles, eyes closed. “Can you now?” 

“I am very, _very_ efficient, Soldier.” 

“I believe you, Doll. Let’s keep that in reserve, ok? When Stevie starts makin’ me crazy, we’ll revisit that option.” 

“Right then…” FRIDAY murmurs. “Shall I schedule you for Tuesday?” 

He can’t help but bark a laugh at that. But damn, Tony is something. His little robot daughter has all kinds of depths, like she’s a real person that just talks to him through a speaker. Even Wakanda didn’t have anything like her. 

“Got a mouth on you, girly.” Bucky snorts. “Yeah, pencil me in for Tuesday.” 

“Done and done, Soldier.” 

Drowsy as he melts further into the pillows, Bucky flashes a thumbs up with his metal hand. “You’re an angel.” 

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” FRIDAY murmurs as she turns the lights back down. “Rest well, Soldier.” 

*

Bucky flails awake some unknown amount of time later at the terrified sound of FRIDAY’s voice. “Soldier? Soldier… I just lost Boss’s coms.” 

And the Avengers Alarm goes off.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky takes over coms at the tower to demand information on precisely _what the hell_ is going on. Tony Stark gets miniaturized for ~~angst, travel convenience~~ reasons. Rhodey gets mad, Steve's just confused.

Bucky throws himself out of the reading nook, tears through the library, and bolts to where the elevator is just arriving at the floor. FRIDAY has it moving nearly before the doors close, throwing up projection screens and scrambling video feeds as she directs the car to one of the Avengers conference floors for the fully automated tables it offers. Bucky doesn’t understand two-third of what she says but he looks at every panel and projection, stumbling out of the elevator when it halts and following the trail of lights that leads him to the conference room. 

The room itself is humming and filled with screens and data points and sound, already active and conducted by FRIDAY as he stumbles through the doorway. She directs him to a panel in the wall and a spare com unit in a distracted tone, pulling up footage of the Quinjet from a satellite as well as interior cam footage of the jet itself. Bruce is sacked out on a med-bay bed, clearly recovering from his latest stint as Hulk. 

“Get me the team.” Bucky demands, reaching out like he’s seen Stark do and swiping the Quinjet feed away. “I need any suit cam or data you’ve got and I need it _yesterday_ , Doll. We gotta find your dad.” 

“Working on it now, the suits are on Boss’s server exclusively.” FRIDAY responds, sounding a touch snippy in her panic. “I’m giving you temporary access on a sandbox protocol, visual and audio for _this mission only_. It’ll be patched through in three.” 

“I want it in two.” He snaps, his metal hand tightening on the table edge. “And get me Steve, _now_.” 

“Rogers.” Steve barks in his ear a moment later. “FRIDAY connected you, are you SHIELD or someone else?” 

“It’s me.” Bucky growls, rolling his eyes. “Normally you lurk over Tony, where are you and what are you doing?” 

“Wha- _Bucky_?” Steve, for his part, sounds utterly bewildered. “How did, _why are_ -… What do you want with Tony?” 

“Can you focus please, Captain?” Bucky rumbles in his best ‘official business’ tone. The sooner he can snap Steve out of his ‘caregiver’ mentality about Bucky, the better. They don’t have time for that nonsense on the field. “I asked you a question. FRIDAY says you usually lurk or have eyes on Iron Man. Did you today, and if so, who was it and where are they now?” 

“No one had eyes on Tony, I had to help Wanda handle something.” Steve mumbles. “Why, what did he do?” 

“Can you stop being a jackass about your goddamn teammate?” The Soldier barks. “He didn’t do anything. His coms cut and his tech child is scared. Something _happened_ Steve so get your head out of your ass and _check on your team_.” 

“What are you-” Steve begins, but Bucky’s had enough of it. 

“To hell with this. FRIDAY! I want Rhodes!” He snarls as the footage from Tony’s suit finally appears. FRIDAY has it on fast forward as it’s the flight and ensuing fight, and he needs whatever he can see about what happened after. 

“Connecting War Machine.” FRIDAY returns, and suddenly Tony’s best friend is on the line. 

“Soldier?” Rhodey murmurs, sounding slightly winded. 

“War Machine.” Bucky returns because civility to a heavily armed, decorated soldier is just common sense. “FRIDAY indicates she lost Iron Man on coms. I know he was in the lab levels and checking tech, I’m working my way through footage now but if he wasn’t helmeted I won’t get much. What do you know?” 

“She pinged me when she lost him, I let Vision take over my sweep and I’m moving toward Tony’s last pinged location.” Rhodes replies stiffly. “I can see the suit but it’s gone dormant, probably retracted into the nano-pod within the arc reactor.” 

“Assessment?” 

“Well he wouldn’t do that if hostiles were in the room.” Rhodes grinds his teeth. “He wouldn’t _willingly_ do that in the field at all.” 

Yeah, James had that feeling. He grinds his teeth and clenches his hands into fists. “So something went sideways." 

“Yeah…” Rhodes agrees, sounding tense enough to snap. “Almost to the marker!” 

There’s a distant crash like War Machine is going through a wall or a door, and then dead silence. Bucky reaches the end of the Iron Man suit footage, sees a hiccup like a frame jump and then a brilliant flash of light. The screen goes dark and Rhodes’s com is chillingly silent. 

“War Machine?” Bucky grits out, leaning over the table and fighting the urge to put his new hand through it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. “War Machine!” 

“Soldier.” Rhodes’s voice is soft and very, very calm. “I’m going to need you to be ready when we’re inbound, things have definitely gone sideways.” 

Bucky swallows audibly in the suddenly quiet room. “Is he… Rhodey?” 

Distantly on the com, there’s a soft voice. “Who are you?” 

A child’s voice. 

“He’s… alive.” Rhodes says quietly. “He’s alive…” 

A little louder, over the soft whir of the suit, Rhodey speaks to the room rather than the com. “Hey… My name is James Rhodes, I’m retired Air Force and I work on a special super hero team… I’m here to take you home.” 

*

Half-way across the country, James Rhodes kneels in the War Machine suit, wishing for all the world that it had less firepower strapped to it in a time like this. For his part, the six year old Tony Stark peers around a toppled computer bay, wide-eyed and wondering at the silver and charcoal suit. Rhodey is glad his friend was actually wearing casual clothing under the suit, but he can still see the arc reactor’s glow through the special window of the shirt this young Stark is wearing, half-hidden by his jacket. Thankfully the rig is detachable, so it's not putting pressure on the kid's lungs. But Rhodey's sure as hell not gonna reach for it, there's no guarantee kid Tony won't have the same trauma about people taking it away.

Or about baths. Water in general. Portals in space. 

Clearly the kid has even more trauma about Cap than the adult version of Tony Stark does. Which is just, six kinds of fucked up, if Rhodes is honest. Damn it, he's not ready to handle this by himself, he's definitely tagging in the other James as soon as he can get this kid to the penthouse. "Come on, Tony." 

Tony, for his part, scuffs his shoe on the floor and looks up through his curtain of bangs, brown eyes wide and wary. “You know me?” 

Rhodey inhales, nodding. “Yeah Tony… Yeah, I know you.” 

Just as the boy is beginning to inch around the toppled desk and scattered debris in the room, Steve Rogers comes charging through the doorway, shield held aloft and helmet on. The overhead lighting, damaged and spitting sparks though it may be, glints off the bright polish of the shield. Steve's uniform isn't exactly tactical elite, the bright blue and scarlet plain as day. 

Tony, taking one look at all the red white and blue, goes wide-eyed and then vanishes from sight. There’s a scramble of sneakered feet over paper and crunching like glass, and then a terrible silence. 

Rhodey wilts slightly in the suit, wanting to rub his temples or pinch the bridge of his nose. Wanting to bang his head against a wall. In War Machine he can't do any of them, but he wants to. _Man, can this go anymore sideways?'_

“Was… was that a kid?” Steve blinks, bewildered, and Rhodey shoots him a glare. 

"What did it look like, _Captain_ , a _llama_?" 

“Fellas?” Bucky grits out through his teeth. “Now is not the time, and I don't have eyes on. How about you stow the issues, for now? Someone tell me something.” 

“I almost had him.” Rhodey sighs. “The Captain appeared, and he bolted.” 

James works real hard not to put his fist through Tony's fancy projection table. _Damn it, Steve._ Out loud, he sighs. "Bolted where?”

There's silence in the room around him like FRIDAY is hanging on every word. 

“My guess? Into the smoldering wreck that is two connected rooms in a HYDRA base after Iron Man has worked his magic.” Rhodey replies in a snippy tone. “How about you call the Captain to fall back and I’ll try and undo this latest fiasco?” 

“Why did he run?” Steve blinked, looking utterly baffled. 

“Because you came charging in like a bull in a china shop?” Rhodey offered blandly, refusing to give name to any of Tony's issues. If Tony Stark has secrets from the Captain, he has every right to them. “Fall back, Captain. I can fetch the Iron Kid on my own.” 

“But-” Steve objects. 

“Steve, let it be for now.” Bucky sighs. “FRIDAY says you’ve got incoming, probably Thor judging by the energy. But since, in her words _‘Bad Guys Think With Portals Too’_ , you should get topside. Rhodes can handle the kid.” 

Rhodey gives a teeth-baring smile and a mock salute, waiting for Steve to retreat before he speaks again. “Hey, Tones? You still there?” 

There are several heartbeats of silence as Rhodey’s blood pressure climbs, and then suddenly a soft murmur. “Yes.” 

Rhodey slumps in the armor, heaving a sigh of relief. “That’s good. That’s real good, buddy. Can you tell me what happened?” 

“I’m not supposed to be in the lab.” Tony murmurs from wherever he’s hidden himself. “I… I can’t be in the lab. Dad gets mad if I go there, even if I just… if I just wanna build something. But the circuit board, that really made him mad. So, I’m not supposed… I can be in the garage, but I have to take whatever he hands me, even if it’s hot… Only men are allowed in the garage, and Stark Men are made of iron.” 

“Ok, ok buddy.” Rhodey interrupts the soft panicked murmuring. “But this isn’t your dad’s lab, I promise it isn’t. You’re not in trouble for being here.” 

“How do you know?” Tony whispers. “How did I get here? And if I’m not in trouble, why is he here?” 

“Who, Tony?” 

More telling silence, and finally a reply. “Captain America.” 

“What’s wrong with Captain America?” Rhodes asks, just to hear what the boy says. Adult Stark has a list, probably a mile long, to answer that question. Rhodey's got his own too, if he's honest. But this kid... This kid isn't old enough to have met Steve Rogers, so the fact that he's afraid says something. 

Something not good, but something nonetheless. 

“He’ll find me if I’m bad…” Tony murmurs, soft and on the edge of tears. “I wasn’t bad, I wasn’t. I just wanted to make things, I… I wanna _help_. Why’s that bad? It was just a circuit board… and and the engine... But it’s not done yet, it’s not done! And I’m allowed in the garage!” 

“Hey, hey buddy.” Rhodey interrupts again, taking a few clanking steps toward the last place he saw his pint-sized best friend. “Why don’t you come out and talk to me, ok? You sound real upset, and I’m worried about you, Tones.” 

“… what if he comes back?” 

“Who, Cap? No.” Rhodey huffs, forcibly cheerful. “Cap won’t come back. He’s upstairs, and this isn’t your dad’s lab. And you _aren’t_ in trouble, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.” 

“You promise?” 

“On my life, kid. I’m right here, and I won’t let anyone hurt you.” 

“But he’s Captain America.” Tony speaks it in a very distinct tone. _You can't stop him. No one would even bother to try._

“So what? I’m War Machine… And I’m _way_ better.” 

“But.. It’s just a suit, isn’t it?” 

“Just a suit?” Rhodey blusters. “Not on your life, kiddo. The _best_ suit.” 

“But he’s a Super Soldier.” 

“Still not worried.” Rhodey retorts. “I’m better.” 

“How come?” 

“A world class Stark made my suit.” Rhodey smiles, softening his voice. “The _best_ Stark made my suit.”

 _'And an alcoholic, child abusing asshole made Captain America.'_

Alright, so maybe James Rhodes was more than a little upset with Steve Rogers. But no one could blame him, Iron Man has been his best friend for most of his life. 

“Better than Howard?” 

“Worlds better than Howard, kid.” The Soldier promises. "Eons. Universes." 

The dark haired boy returns, eyes narrowed and thoughtful. “Better than Howard…” 

“Yeah.” Rhodey smiles, holding out his arms. “My guy, he’s really great.” 

*


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and James talk on coms, make a plan, make a backup plan, and stress out. Together.

Bucky is reduced to pacing and swearing under his breath in Russian as he waits to hear from the team. FRIDAY is still reading out data, pulling up fields, murmuring about her connection to the suit in its dormant state, damage it received, how and why it might have retracted. She can interface with the nanites in their pod enough to know that Tony has plenty of firepower left, and has sustained no grievous injury. But she doesn’t know the _why_ of the suit retracting. 

So maybe Bucky will break this very, very expensive table, after all. But when he does, he’s going to blame it on Tony being bad for his blood pressure. He’s pretty sure that FRIDAY’ll back him up. Before he can ask, War Machine’s com buzzes to life silencing everything, his tone forcefully light in Bucky’s ear. 

“Winter Soldier?” 

“War Machine.” Bucky sighs, leaning against the table, not yet daring to hope. “Status report?” 

“I have Iron Man.” Rhodey sounds like he’s smiling, but Bucky can’t be sure how genuine it is. “He’s travel sized, but unharmed aside from minor cuts and scrapes.” 

Ok, unharmed is good. Some scrapes, some scrapes the Soldier can probably deal with. “Do we know how?” 

“We do not.” Rhodey replies back in that same tone. “But he’s intact, the suit is collected, and all HYDRA devices are toast. I’ve got a jump drive of data for FRIDAY to pull apart, also. Update, topside?” 

“Seems like Thor has just touched down.” Bucky leans heavily against the table, massaging his temple. In a hovering screen, FRIDAY has obligingly pulled up footage from one of the jet cams that shows the dwindling of the rainbow bridge that brought the God back to them. The team has already started gathering, greeting him and catching up. 

Bucky watches Thor clap Steve firmly on the shoulder, able to tell from miles off that the Punk is sulking. Yeah, they’re gonna have words, he can feel it in his gut, but one problem at a time. “What’s your plan?” 

“It’s gotta be me with a plan? What do you do again?” Rhodey grumbles. 

“Stand here and look pretty.” Bucky retorts, and FRIDAY makes a noise suspiciously like a laugh. “It’s too bad you can’t see me right now, but take my word for it, I’m _gorgeous_.” 

“You’re not my type, don’t flirt with me Barnes.” Rhodey laughs. “But in all seriousness… I’m not sure the jet is going to be the best option.” 

“No?” Bucky pokes at a few of the files FRIDAY offers him, but doesn’t really see any option that looks feasible. 

“This kid sees Cap and it’s all over.” Rhodey replies in a mutter, and Bucky would bet anything he’s got the helmet on and exterior speaker off. 

The next moment he’s proved correct, as FRIDAY pulls War Machine’s suit cam and puts up a live feed. The armor is carrying a young Tony Stark, approximately age six, eyes still brown and haunted, hair still fluffy and standing upright, but cheeks adorably round. Gods above, the kid is precious beyond reason. James wants to wrap him in a blanket and hug him for hours. The Soldier wants to go back in time and punch Howard Stark right to the moon. 

“Suggestions.” Bucky grits through his teeth. 

“I mean, I don’t want to count Tony out because I know how he can be. But I know how he can be as an adult who sublimates all his reactions to trauma and keeps all his cards close to his chest until he decides to kill you with them.” Rhodes points out. “As a kid? I have no idea and neither does anyone else because anyone who knew Tony up until he was fourteen and breezing through college is dead or lost to time.” 

“Alright, alright.” Bucky sighs, running his hands through his hair. “That’s fair.” 

“So, we can try to introduce him to the group, in the field, because wide open spaces are our friend.” Rhodey offers slowly, thoughtfully. “If he can’t handle them in a field, I don’t see how forcing them into a flying can is going to be particularly helpful.” 

“You’re not wrong.” Bucky sighs. “Steve might be an ass about this, Rhodes.” 

“All due respect, Soldier?” Rhodey growls. “The Captain is not my concern. Iron Kid is my concern, you understand? So you get on your friend’s coms, and you tell him that he better watch his manners. You tell him to keep Wanda back, while you’re at it, and if Clint says a single bitchy thing I will shoot him.” 

“Ok.” Bucky leans heavily on the table, head hanging down. “Ok. So I talk to the Captain and snap commands at the other kids so they play nice. You bring Iron Kid up, and we try to introduce them in an open space. And if the meeting doesn’t go well?” 

“The team gets on the Quinjet and heads back.” Rhodey replies without hesitation. “James? I mean it. If Steve is his trauma of the moment, I don’t care how the Captain feels. He’s leaving my best friend the hell alone.” 

“Ok War Machine, I hear you.” Bucky agrees because he can’t argue, it wouldn’t be fair to Tony to force him into close quarters with Steve. 

Rhodes draws a deep breath, re-centering himself, and continues in a much more level tone. “But I’m not going to put this kid on prisoner transport with Hill. So, our best backup plan is Thor hangs back with me while the team departs. He carries the kid home and I fly as escort.” 

“And when you all get home?” 

“Thor and I will wait until they’ve got a bit of a lead, and we aren’t gonna Mach 3 it with a kid on hand.” Rhodey retorts. “We’ll make it a Sunday flight back, it’ll be fine. You get the team home, get them in casual wear for the love of god, and keep Steve back until we can figure some stuff out.” 

“Alright.” Bucky replies. “Alright. You talk to the kid, I’m going to get Steve on coms and talk to him. Thor should be a safe bet, I’m not sure where Vision will fall on things, and Natasha doesn’t spend much time around children.” 

“Dunno what to think of Sam, either.” Rhodey admits. “I guess we’ll find out. You handle your side, I’ll handle mine. Ready? Break.” 

“I’m sure that’s some stupid reference, but I don’t know it.” Bucky grumbles his reply. “FRIDAY, Steve.” 

*


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winter Soldier gets on the coms, yells at everyone, and begins making a list of "things you have done to disappoint me" that he will be addressing with the team.

“Connecting you now, Soldier.” FRIDAY murmurs, and the com goes live. 

“Buck?” Steve jumps on it immediately. “What’s-” 

"Captain.” Bucky cuts him off, grabs the upper hand and hopes to keep it before Steve can run off with the bit in his teeth. “Listen, we’ve got a situation and you’re going to need to cooperate to keep things as calm as possible.” 

“Buck, what are you talking about?” 

“Steve, just shut up and listen to me, okay?” Bucky exhales, a whoosh of breath that doesn’t take any stress with it. He’s pretty sure a migraine is beginning behind one eye, but like hell is there anything that’ll touch it with Super Soldier metabolism. Damn it, today’s going to suck all the way around, ain’t it? “Rhodes found Tony, but he’s been de-aged somehow. Think he’s probably six or seven, and he’s scared to hell by you.” 

“What? Me? Why?” Steve demands. 

“Steve, does it really matter?” Bucky grits out. “He’s _seven_ and he’s scared.” 

“I can’t fix it if I don’t know, Buck.” 

“I’m not sure you can fix it right now at all, you jackass.” 

“I’m field command for this team!” 

“You’re co-command with Stark, who is out of the running.” Bucky grits back. “Rhodes can speak for him, and I’m currently Base Ops. So guess what? We’re overruling you. You don’t need to know right now. Tony is a kid, a frightened little boy who just woke up in the smoldering remains of a HYDRA lab, and then Captain America crashed through the door.” 

“Buck-” Steve begins, exasperation clear in his tone. 

“Don’t you ‘Buck’ me, right now, Rogers.” The Winter Soldier growls, and Steve goes silent. “I want you to just shut up and listen for the next two minutes. Rhodey is bringing Stark out to meet the team. If he can handle you guys, he will ride in the Quinjet back home.” 

There’s a momentary hesitation, and when Steve speaks it’s in a soft tone rather than the obstinate one he’s been using up to this point. “Handle?” 

“Steve if you make the kid have a meltdown in a wide open space, and then put him on a tiny flying jet with you and six friends, he’s going to have a stroke before he gets home.” Bucky honestly tries for flat but there’s a definitely ‘you moron’ unspoken at the end of the sentence. “You set him off, so what will he do when faced with Wanda? I know she liked to wave her hands around and flaunt her magic on a good day, why wouldn’t she terrorize a kid? What about with Clint, who can’t go five minutes without making some asshole comment or another? Bruce is passed out, and hell if Tony would recognize him or care, because he’s _seven_. Rhodey flies, so he can’t be there to watch out for the kid on the ride home. That means I’m putting my trust in what, exactly? Nat and Sam? How often are they around kids? Vision? Is he going to do a damn thing when his girlfriend decides to pick on Stark?” 

Bucky pauses, takes a deep breath. “This team is dysfunctional as fuck, Steve. Maybe y’all make it work on a day today, but only because Tony works so damn hard. He plays dumb, or deaf, or immune to it all. But today that Tony ain’t here… And he doesn’t fucking deserve the way y’all treat him when he is, if you want me to be honest. That’s not here or there, mind you, that’s just me letting you know we’re gonna talk about this later. But today he’s just a kid, and he don’t got a single damn reason to trust you, or play nice with you, or believe any one of y’all when you say a single damn thing to him.” 

“Ok.. Ok Bucky.” Steve sounds beaten down, is visibly drooping under some invisible weight. “What do you need me to do?” 

“Take off your helmet, ruffle up your hair, and try not to put your foot in your mouth.” Bucky orders dryly. “No loud talking, no aggressive gestures, hell don’t even reach out for the kid at all unless he reaches first, ok? Don’t glare, don’t even stare at him, just try and be the softie that I know is there somewhere.” 

“A-alright…” Steve still sounds downtrodden, but at least he’s meek about it instead of getting uppity. 

“You talk to Clint, I’m paging Nat.” Bucky continues. “You put the fear of god into him, you get me?” 

“Yes sir, Base Ops.” Steve tries on a smile. 

Bucky can’t quite reply. “I mean it, Steve. Tash listens to me and I’m setting her on Clint too, and you can talk to Sam however you see fit. But any of you talk shit to this kid, and we’re hashing it out in the gym when you get here.” 

“We’ll behave.” 

“Good. Soldier out.” Bucky leans forward, pressing his forehead to the table for a minute. “How was that, my girl?” 

“Nicely said, Soldier.” FRIDAY murmurs, sounding fond. “Better than I could have done, since I would have just devolved to threats and name calling.” 

“Ain't that what I did?” 

“But with style, you know? And the guise of a lifelong friend helps.” FRIDAY gives the sense that she’s shrugging. “When you’re an AI and everyone’s just waiting for you to be Ultron 2.0, there’s not a lot to work with in the threat department.” 

“Those jackasses hurt you feelings too, huh Sweetheart?” Bucky sighs. “Don’t worry, I’mma talk with them about a lot of things later. I’ll add that to the list.” 

“You don’t need to trouble yourself, Soldier.” 

“Nobody upsets my girl and gets away with it, FRIDAY.” Bucky tosses a smile toward the wall. “Get me Nat, would you?” 

“With a little flare, Soldier?” 

“Whatever you think will work, FRIDAY.” 

“Paging the Widow.” FRIDAY murmurs. “Connecting.” 

*

Tasha watches her team reassemble with narrowed eyes. Steve comes out of the base looking upset, annoyed and ashamed in turn. He won’t quite meet her eyes but he does join the group, checking everyone over and giving decisive nods when they inquire about him. He’s fine, or so it seems, and remains within earshot for several minutes, tense like he’s waiting on something. That something appears to be a coms call, because he gives Natasha a nod and then paces away to take it, his shoulders stiff the whole time. She doesn’t know why but she’ll let it be for now, he’s sure to tell her about it sooner or later. 

Clint, to her right, doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong with Steve. He’s going over arrows that he’s recollected, cleaning them and taking stock of any deficiencies before he stows them in the quivers at his back. Now and again he mumbles something, but it’s scraps of thoughts and Natasha doesn’t pay it any mind. When she glances upward Sam is slowly spiraling down from his loop, having watched Maria and prisoner transport safely depart. Vision follows him, but moves straight to Wanda as she waits off to one side with her arms crossed over her stomach. Rhodes hasn’t appeared yet, neither has Tony. 

No one asks about them, though. 

Her com whispers to life, FRIDAY on the other line. “Connected.” 

There’s an ominous whisper of static, and then nothing for a handful of heartbeats. 

“Widow.” She murmurs, keeping her tone even, wondering why FRIDAY would bother to patch anyone outside in. If it had been a team connection, they would have just gone ahead. “Who-” 

“No questions.” The Winter Soldier admonishes, tone cool and distant. “Widow.” 

“Soldier.” She can’t help but go still, feeling like a prey animal that knows the predator is out there but can’t see it. “I-” 

“Stark’s been de-aged and is being brought out of the base by War Machine.” The Winter Soldier cuts in smooth as anything. “He’s probably seven and I will not have anyone on the team making snide comments or threatening gestures of any sort to him. Are we understood?” 

Natasha admits that she’s caught off-guard, both by what he says and the flat tone he says it in. She knows that voice, knows it from her childhood directing her in the Red Room. She’s nodding along with what he says before he finishes, partially because she is used to obeying that voice, partially because each word stated in that utterly reasonable tone is fair. “Understood.” 

“I mean it.” The Soldier grits out, steel in every word. “You speak to the archer, I will not hesitate to shoot him.” 

Yes, there is a very good reason to listen. It is rare enough to get a warning from the Winter Soldier, there will certainly never be a second. 

“I understand.” She replies, watching Steve’s stiff body language and noting the worry in his expression. Indeed, she understands. 

"I hope that is true... I would hate to have to be cross with you, Natalia." 

*

Sam comes in for a landing just as Natasha and Steve both wrap up whatever weird dog-pile lecture they’re giving Clint. The archer looks like he’s got a mouthful of sour grapes, Steve looks worried with his helmet cast aside and blond hair spiked in all directions, Tasha looks ice cold but her mouth is tight. Sam evaluates them all, then shakes his head. 

“Don’t wanna ask what’s wrong, just wanna know what we’re doing next.” 

“Next we are being very, very careful not to upset the child Rhodes is bringing out of the base.” Tasha eyes Sam. “You didn’t get a lecture, you’re reasonable. Don’t make him regret it.” 

“Who now?” 

“The Winter Soldier.” 

Sam hesitates, glad that he didn’t get a lecture but also chilled to his core. “And when did he get on coms?” 

“About thirty seconds into your mission going pear-shaped. Why, you wanna argue with me?” Bucky asks sweetly. 

“Uh, no?” Sam glances at Steve, at Tasha, at Clint who’s now staring at the ground. “No argument here?” 

“Good.” The Soldier retorts. “Falcon this is Winter Soldier at Base Ops. You upset the kid? I kill you.” 

_Right. Ok._ Sam nods. “I, uh, I read you, Soldier.” 

“Then we don’t got nothin’ to worry about, do we?” 

*


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winter Soldier and FRIDAY do a little hunting, take sight on their prey, and fire warning shots.

Staring at the Stark Satellite footage FRIDAY is providing of the team gathered in the field, Barnes sighs and then leans heavily on the table edge. “Sweetheart, you mind helping me with a little project?” 

“You’re in Boss’s corner, I’m in yours.” She replies softly. “What do you have in mind?” 

“I need footage on every event that the Witch has made a move against your- uh, Tony.” 

“All due respect, Soldier, we’d literally be here for hours.” All sound of amusement has fled from her tone, and FRIDAY just sounds sad. “Care to narrow it down?” 

Two hands –one flesh and one metal- tense around the table edge in response. He keeps trying to remind himself that wrecking this holo-table isn’t worth it, that the damn thing is a brilliant piece of tech that probably cost thousands. But that doesn’t really matter when pitted against the rage brewing in his gut. “How about the last month’s worth?” 

“A month? I can do that.” The AI responds. “You can get through a third of it and then talk to her…With or without sound?” 

“I just need visuals, darlin’. Get me in the right state of mind and then put me on coms with the Witch.” The Soldier draws a deep, steadying breath and carefully pries his hands off the table edge. “You can do that, can’t ya? Maybe give me a little fanfare?” 

“Can I whistle her up for you?” FRIDAY asks in an innocent tone. 

“Why not? Give her a headache and then lemme at her, on my signal?” 

“Your requested footage, Soldier.” The room goes bright with video windows. 

FRIDAY gleefully projects multiple screens of security footage from the tower. It’s all muted, per the Soldier’s request, but Wanda’s hands tend to go scarlet the minute Tony walks in the room, whether she’s using them to do anything or not. It isn’t the sort of thing one needs sound for, though it’s easy to tell in a few that she’s saying something cutting or hurtful to Tony. Still, once or twice the glow might be a coincidence, but by the sixth screen it’s easy to tell she just does it to get a reaction. 

Tony reacts, hesitating as he enters a room, his dark, soulful eyes going wide and wary. He doesn’t outright panic, usually maintains a smooth stride or returns to whatever train of thought or purpose brought him into the room in the first place. But he keeps as many bodies and objects between him and Wanda as possible. He doesn’t look at her straight on, but he keeps her visible in his peripheral, watching and wary. 

James grinds his teeth as he takes it all in. Time after time crimson flares as soon as Tony enters the frame, reflected in his dark eyes. With every flare of light, the billionaire reacts, an immediate mask shielding his previously unguarded expression. His shoulders straighten, his stride hesitates or varies, and he immediately places obstacles or bodies between himself and her. 

FRIDAY plays event after event for the Soldier upon his request, watching him grit his teeth in annoyance as the color slowly bleaches from his eyes. When they’re a flat, metallic grey he lifts two fingers, a commanding gesture. Taking that as her cue, the AI cuts into Wanda’s com unit and blasts her with a sharp, piercing whistle. 

“Give her a second for her hearing to return, and she’s all yours.” FRIDAY advises Winter, her tone just at the edge of smug. “I’ll give her com sound in about twelve seconds.” 

The Soldier cocks his head, smirks at the ceiling. “You’re wicked, Doll.” 

The AI gives no response, but a green light appears and the Soldier begins talking. 

“Ved’ma.” He snarls softly in her ear. “I am disappointed in you.” 

*

Wanda watches as Vision steps away to speak to Clint, and barely manages to contain her shriek of surprise when a piercing whistle cuts through her com unit. Whatever it is, it seems exclusive to her own unit as the others don’t react at all. Instead, the rest of the team seems distracted by something, gathering up around a recently returned Captain to hear what he has to say. None of them notice how Wanda folds herself in half, wrapping arms around her stomach as the noise grates through her skull and then abruptly vanishes. The silence in its wake is deafening, but an icy voice takes over moments later. 

“ведьма” He hisses, ice on every syllable. “I am disappointed in you.” 

“Wh-what?” Wanda gasps, tightening her grip on herself. “Who?” 

“нет.” He grows. “No, I think not. You? You do not get to speak. It is my turn to speak, and your turn to listen. Understood?” 

Tears leaking down her face, Wanda nods, gasping as the ringing in her head slowly recedes. She doesn’t know if he can see her or not, but her silence seems to be enough. 

“I know you have been threatening Stark.” The Soldier speaks softly, silk and ice in every word. “I know you terrorize him. That you flaunt your power at every opportunity, throw it in his face. I am sure, beyond sure, that you give him nightmares to this very day, both actively out of spite and passively through your mere presence in this place, this which is his home. Do you deny this?” 

There is silence, and the Soldier tsks. “Now, you will answer me when I ask you direct questions or I shall become even more cross with you. Witch, do you deny this?” 

“N-no.” Wanda gasped softly. 

“Good, honesty is not something I was expecting from you.” He murmurs. Distinctly there is the sound of metal on metal, and Wanda shivers at the unseen threat of it. “I did not think you were capable, truth be told, though I still remain unconvinced. Nonetheless, it appears you do have some sense after all. Now then, all of that? It stops now. Now, yes?” 

“Y-yes?” 

“Ah, that is not nearly so reassuring or confident.” The Soldier tsks again. “The nightmares, the magic, the comments and threats and every little glare. It stops now, Little Witch, _does it not?_ ” 

“Yes, I will stop. I can stop, all of it.” 

“Oh, I am certain you can.” Winter curls his lip, tosses and catches his blade in his flesh hand, flicks at it idly with a metallic finger just to make it ping. “But I am not yet convinced that you shall.” 

“I will, I promise.” 

“Good.” The Soldier nods. “You will prove it by not saying a single word, not _one, single, word_ to Rhodes or the boy. Am I understood? You will not even look at them directly, or I will be forced to retaliate. And you do not want me to retaliate, do you, ведьма?” 

“No.” 

“Good.” Winter purrs. “No looks, and no words… Or your eyes and your tongue and any other offending part will be forfeit to me as reparations. If there is a single spark of magic I will not hesitate to take your hands, as well as whatever serves as a spine in something as dishonorable as you… Such a loathsome thing, that which spews acid upon those that protect it.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Not yet.” Winter retorts with a shrug. “But you will be.” 

He makes another imperious gesture. FRIDAY cuts the coms. 

On footage for the field Wanda straightens up and tries to wipe away the tears. 

The Winter Soldier bares his teeth. “Get me the Archer.” 

*

Clint is ashen pale and shaking by the time he gets off a very short coms conversation with the Winter Soldier. He looks to Natasha for support but she merely arches one eyebrow, looking blank and unsympathetic. At their backs Wanda steps closer to Vision, quiet and meek with her arms wrapped around her. She won’t meet Clint’s eyes, won’t meet anyone’s, but nods when Vision asks her if she’s ok. 

Ok, Clint feels, is a relative term. He’s not really bleeding after his talk with Barnes, but he certainly feels eviscerated. 

Yeah, ok might be a bit strong of a word to use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ved'ma (ведьма)- Witch  
> нет- No


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony meets the team... It goes about as well as you'd expect.

Thor lands a decent distance into the field, the brand of the Bifrost scorching the grass and earth beneath him. He strides toward his Midgardian companions beaming, the bright scarlet of his cloak bannering in the wind as he approaches them where they cluster outside the Quinjet. Bruce is not among them, but Thor guesses this means the Hulk has fought this day. It would certainly explain why the base looks so thoroughly trounced. 

There’s an overturned tank on the green, half burrowed into the grass. Thor paces up to it and gives it a shove, sending it to a more firmly settled slouch of wrecked parts. So then, it seems his friends indeed have triumphed without him and left little sport behind. Ahh well, the perils of arriving late to a mission. 

Still, the Asgardian accepts it with good grace and leans against the wreck, watching the doorway intently. 

A moment later War Machine steps out into the sunshine, the helmet retracting as the pilot glances around for a moment. Rhodey clocks the team in the distance but nods at the sight of Thor leaning lazily against a lump of metal that was once an overturned vehicle. Thor is the safest person he can think to introduce Tony to, the man is a giant teddy bear and always seemed great with kids. And with Tony, truth be told. 

“Thor.” He greets the god with a faint smile. 

“Machine of War.” Thor intones in his most somber voice, but there’s a twinkle in his eye that says he’s pulling Rhodey’s leg and enjoying it. “It seems the battle was waged and won without me. While saddened I have come too late to partake, it does my heart good to be reunited with my Midgardian Companions! So then, who is this young warrior?” 

“Anthony Stark, the Iron Kid.” Rhodey smiles. “Thought you’d help me get him back to New York if it turns out that the jet was crowded.” 

“Yes, limited room as the team continues to grow.” Thor murmurs somberly, glancing over to the gathered team and then back. “Still, we are blessed to have so many skilled fliers on our side, are we not? If it seems no room can be found, I would be proud to carry our Shield Brother home. Well met, Son of Iron.” 

Tony, unsurprisingly, is wide-eyed and staring. “Wow.” 

“That’s Thor.” Rhodey smiles. “He’s the God of Thunder, wields a magic hammer named Mjolnir.” 

“He’s a God?” Tony boggles, glancing at Rhodey and then back to Thor again. 

Thor gives a bow of his head, and then casually tosses and catches Mjolnir. It sends the muscles in his arms and shoulders to rippling, but the gesture is deceptively graceful. “My friends, including you Young Anthony, merely call me Thor.” 

“Yeah, it’s a little complicated, but Thor is pretty great.” Rhodey smiles. “So we’re gonna meet the rest of the team real quick, okay?” 

Immediately Tony folds back down, eyes fixing on the shoulder of the armor, lower lip disappearing under his teeth. “Uh… Ok.” 

Rhodey glances at Thor, noting the cheerful spirit that the man usually sports lost under a very sad face. Yes, apparently Thor didn’t think it was ok either. “Do you want Thor to carry you?” 

Tony glances over to Thor, admiring the hammer for a moment, but ultimately shakes his head. “No, I’ll stay with you for a bit.” 

“Ok buddy… Let’s go check in with everyone and then we’ll figure out how to get you home.” Rhodey sighs, hugging the kid a little closer as he carefully crosses the expanse between himself and the team. “It’ll be fun.” 

Thor makes a rumbling sound of amusement, but follows, as amenable as ever. 

Steve stiffens as they approach, making an aborted move forward before he thinks about it and remains. Natasha is the one to actually step closer, gracefully moving past Sam as the flier and Clint work to take off his flight rig. 

“Hello there.” Tasha offers softly. “Colonel Rhodes, are you going to introduce us?” 

“Tony, this is Natasha.” Rhodey murmurs, refusing to give her codename because he’s sure the kid’s smart enough to guess _exactly how_ she earned it. “She’s on the team with me.” 

“My Aunt Peggy used to fight.” Tony offers in a soft voice, eying the soft blue glow of the widow’s bites at Tasha’s wrists. “She was the best.” 

At the back of the group, Steve Rogers gives a little jerk like he’s taken a hit to the stomach. 

Vision reaches out to steady him, murmuring softly. “Easy there, Captain.” 

Once the blond man has regained his footing, the Android drifts forward, leaving Wanda and Clint to hang back as he moves closer to examine the pint-sized genius. 

“I believe it.” Tasha smiles, soft but a little empty, giving no notion that she’s paying attention to the group at her back. “How about it, Tony? You going to fly back with us?” 

“Dunno.” Tony shrugs, his attention drifting to Sam as the man finishes stripping away his armor and settles the flight rig at his feet. “Nice rig.” 

Clint snorts, an automatic response to Tony complimenting his own tech, and Rhodey clears his throat in warning. Sam glances at the archer, at War Machine, then Tasha. When none of them say anything he coughs and gives a smile. 

“Hey, Little Man.” Sam grins. “The name’s Sam, and thanks.” 

“It’s a shame you wrecked it.” Tony mumbles, scowling at the pack. 

“Wrecked?” 

“Those two plates are bent out of shape.” Tony gestures to one side of the pack. “See? If they were fine, they’d be folded flat like the other side. The piece is designed to be symmetrical. The fact that it isn’t means that something’s wrong. Those two plates that are bent, I bet they’re out of shape by three to five millimeters.” 

He pauses, makes a frame with his fingers and squints through it, then drops his hands and shrugs. “Judging by the hung up articulation, I would say you’ve damaged a spool and an internal bearing, also. You can fly with it, I bet, but your movement’s off and you’ll probably pull right awfully hard. It should be stripped down and the parts replaced before you fly again.” 

Tasha’s staring at the ground, doing a terrible job at hiding her smile. “You’re a heck of a mechanic, Kid.” 

Still struck wordless, Sam and Clint are gaping at the boy. For his part Tony shrugs, dropping his eyes to the ground and going silent as he idly traces the star painted on War Machine’s shoulder. Moments pass by in silence, the Team just blinking in varying states of shock. 

“It would seem that some things do not change.” Vision observed in a gentle tone. 

Tony tilted his head at the android, brown eyes dark and thoughtful. “You talk like Jarvis.” 

“Ah, yes…” Vision coughed awkwardly. “Yes, I was programmed by a friend of Jarvis.” 

“Is he gone?” The boy asks Rhodey. “Is that why you’re here?” 

“Yeah…” Rhodey sighed. “Yeah buddy, I’m afraid he’s gone. But I’m here because you’re my friend, ok? And trust me, none of this was your fault.” 

“Might be.” Clint mumbles. 

_“Clint.”_ The Winter Soldier growls. _“We’re addressing this when you get back to the Tower.”_

Clint abruptly turns the color of sour milk, and drops his eyes to the ground. Tasha, for her part, gives him a look and shakes her head. Silence stretches for several minutes. 

“Alright then.” Fondly Rhodey gives a little laugh as he repositions the kid in his grip. “The guy next to Sam is Clint. He sure can’t fix tech, but he does a pretty good handstand since he used to be part of the circus.” 

Tony glances up at Clint, gives a half-hearted wave, and looks away again. His eyes seem to skitter past Wanda, lurking at the back of the pack, but they hang up on Steve and Vision. Steve, who’s wearing his uniform even if he doesn’t have his helmet on. 

“That’s Vision.” Rhodey murmurs, gesturing at the being in question. “He’s really cool, he can phase through pretty much anything. Just walks right through walls.” 

“He has a cape too.” Tony glances at Thor, then back to Vision. 

“Yes, I am most flattered he chooses to join me in my manner of dress.” Thor rumbles. “It makes me glad to have such esteemed colleagues on Midgard, when I am so far from my home.” 

“Thor’s also an alien.” Rhodey stage-whispers. “If being God of Thunder wasn’t cool enough.” 

Tony smiles, wide and sweet, and even Natasha gives a soft gasp at how cute the boy is. The expression transforms his whole face, cheeks round and innocent, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. 

Steve steps forward a moment later, and the entire expression shatters. 

Tony jerks in War Machine’s grip, almost unseating himself from the gentle hold that the armor has, and then sinks down in Rhodey’s arm to press his cheek against the metal. He won’t look directly at the blond man, just lowers his gaze and chews anxiously at his lower lip, endeavoring to make himself as small as possible. 

Steve wavers, looking sad. 

Rhodey sighs, debates on how best to introduce the person his father characterized as visual representation of Tony's every shortcoming. “That’s-” 

“I know who Captain America is.” Tony whispers. “Steven G Rogers, Captain America. Out of Brooklyn, leader of the Howling Commandos, rescuer of nearly two hundred men at Azzano, including the remainder of the 107th and his best friend James Barnes.” 

There’s silence in the field, and no one knows how to break it. 

“My dad never stopped looking for you.” Tony mumbles at last. “He always did think you were the greatest thing.” 

Winter exhales, and just like that James is back in his skin, alone. 

On the display it’s clear that Steve doesn’t know how to respond to that. The Captain glances from Tony to Rhodes, fists clenching at his sides before he eventually just looks down at his boots. 

“Enough of this.” Bucky sighs, shaking his head faintly and tapping into Rhodey’s coms. “This is a bust, Rhodes. You and the kid and Thor just hang back, I’ll call everyone home.” 

“Thanks, Barnes.” 

“He’s your best friend… Just, bring him home.” 

“You got it Soldier, War Machine out.” 

*


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky schemes with FRIDAY (they're bonding, Tony would be so proud). The Team flies home on the QuinJet, but it's beginning to sink in as to how badly they've screwed up. Steve is concerned. ~~Steve damn well should be concerned.~~

When he gets off the coms with Rhodey, James takes a deep breath before he gestures to FRIDAY and listens to her connecting him to Steve. Taking a fortifying breath and making sure he's more James or Bucky than the Soldier, he speaks. "Steve?"

"Buck?" Steve's response is immediate but a little apprehensive.

"You and the team are to return to the Tower." Bucky directed, watching as Friday projected several maps for him. "Land on the landing pad as usual, bring anyone through medical that needs it. Rhodes and Thor will get Tony home."

"But what about-"

" _Steve_." The growl has a bit more Winter in it than he was hoping for, but Bucky lets it ride. "You and the team are to return home immediately. Is that clear, _Captain_?"

"Yeah... It's clear."

Winter is maybe more than a little disappointed that the Captain backs off so fast, but Bucky is pretty sure it's for the best. Some things need to be said in person, and he feels like a lot of this upcoming fight is going to fall under that category. Besides, the sooner Steve gets back here the better... At least when they argue Winter will be in range to express some hard truths if the Captain proves resistant.

 _This is, satisfactory._ Winter agrees, sullen but patient. 

Great, one less thing to worry about in the immediate future, anyway. 

*

Wordlessly he listens to Steve commanding the rest of the team to pack up their gear and board the Jet. FRIDAY flicks from channel to channel for him without direction, picking up snippets of chatter or projecting the best camera angles as she sees fit. Bucky waits for the Quinjet to take flight, then mutes the team coms and turns his attention to FRIDAY. “Doll?”

“Soldier?” The AI responds, swift and soft-voiced. “How can I be of assistance?”

“You did spectacularly with the coms and video monitoring darling... But I need your help again, if you don't mind?"

"Oh, you know me." FRIDAY chirped. "Happy to help."

"You're a real peach. See the thing is, since the team will be home soon, I would like to set the stage.” He curled his hands around the edge of the table, gripping for a moment and then grinning at the camera. “Would you mind giving me a bit of an assist?”

“If I may be so forward, Soldier…” FRIDAY volunteered gently. “The boss has a few things he was saving for you, should the opportunity present itself. I think, in light of current events, that it would be best if you helped yourself to them now. You’ll just have to be sure to give him feedback when he’s returned to himself.”

“That sounds like a hell of a deal, Doll.” Bucky nods, releasing the table and leaving the room behind. “Where am I going?”

“First? The shop… I’ll page the boys to tell them you’re on the way, and they’ll help you find your things.” FRIDAY chirped, the elevator doors sliding open as he approached. “You may need a secondary trip to the armory, but we’ll see.”

“He got some toys for me waiting in the shop?”

“Like you would not believe, Soldier.”

Bucky grins, tilting his head back to eye the ceiling. “I love the sound of that.”

“Yes…” She says primly. “I thought you might.”

*

The flight back to New York is a quiet one. Bruce remains passed out on a med-cot, and Clint is tense-shouldered and silent as he pilots. Natasha remains cool and composed in the co-pilot seat, but she doesn’t seem to have said or even looked at him for the duration of the flight.

Pacing restlessly through the cabin, Steve performs visual checks on his team time and time again until Sam catches him at it and kicks lightly at his calf as he passes. “Nothing’s changed in the last ten minutes, Cap.”

Steve smiles weakly, ducking his head. He scrubs idly at his hair with one hand, raking the blond strands into chaotic spikes. “I know that. I mean, intellectually, I understand.”

The look Sam gives him is knowing, annoyingly so, but Steve doesn’t get a chance to talk before Falcon is off again.

“Bruce is still sleeping, Wanda’s still silent, Vision and I are still thoughtful, Tasha and Clint are piloting.” Sam reels them off, tapping an illustrative finger as he goes. “Stark ain’t here, he’s back with Thor and Rhodes, and your boy is at home. What’s there to check?”

Steve hesitates, shoulders going tense for a moment, and shrugs. As responses go it’s lackluster, but he doesn’t exactly have words for his worry. Instead, he tries to change the subject. “I think the QuinJet could use some work. Do you think we should stop at the compound and pick up a ‘copter to go home?”

The look Sam levels at him is disappointed, accompanying a crossing of arms and a sigh. “Are you doing this because of concern about the air craft or because you want to delay the inevitable?”

“Ummm.” Steve admittedly blanks, looking back toward the cockpit. “Well.”

“Steve.” Sam’s tone is weary and a little flat, but it catches the Captain’s attention. “This has been going on too long, you know.”

“What?”

“Don’t what me, man.” Sam looks even more disappointed now, folding over with his elbows braced on his knees as he stares at the floor. “Listen, the thing with Stark, it’s messed up. And I don’t know all of it, I’m the first to admit that I don’t, because I’m a real late in coming to this party. I own that, man, I acknowledge it. You and Tasha picked me up in D.C. and basically said _‘you’re in’_ after a mission that arguably went to hell in like seventeen different ways. Spectacular hell, but hell nonetheless.”

Steve nods ruefully, sliding into a seat with a nod. “Agreed.”

“So you and I and Tash, we work together on a few things, big mission and a small one here and there, that’s cool.” Sam carries on. “Come back to New York with you, work a bit with the larger team, that’s great. It’s cool working with other heroes, enhanced and not. But we can all agree a lot of stuff has happened, and this team wasn’t exactly even and cohesive to begin with.”

Steve shifts restlessly, jaw clenching.

“Steve.” Sam’s tone takes on that disappointed, ' _you’re in denial'_ tone he can get. Still, he only uses it when he needs to get through to Steve because he knows it works. “This team is crazy unbalanced, they constantly treat Stark like he’s an outside they allowed in out of mercy… And because of that, they expect him to kiss their boots all the time. It sucks man. It ain’t fair, and it needs to stop. On top of all of that, there’s this issue he’s got with you, or at least that young him has with Cap. That’s not new trauma, Steve, that’s an old, deep-seated issue. That’s a problem you gotta handle now, because no one fuckin’ deserves to live in fear, in his own house, of his own team. More than issues with Clint and Wanda and you, this whole thing needs to be reworked. You denying it isn’t gonna fix anything.”

“Alright, alight.” Steve sighs, seeming to droop under an invisible weight. “You’re right. Clint shouldn’t have said what he did to Tony-”

“Steve.” At this the soldier nudges Steve’s foot with his own, catching and holding eye contact when the Captain finally gives it. “This is way fucking past one bullshit comment in the field, okay? Clint’s been a dick to Tony since everyone moved back in, and that ain’t fair. Wanda constantly goes at him, and that ain’t fair. I’m willing to bet that you and Tasha never apologized for your half of things, or for not listening to his side, or for blaming him for the accords. You know he didn’t start that fight, he just jumped in to try and do his best for you, and none of you listened to him. This isn’t how a healthy team functions, Steve. What’s worse? Your brainwashed best friend noticed it and called us out on it before any of us did. You may say this team is friends or family, but none of us have acted like it, around Tony.”

“Yeah…” Steve sighs. “Yeah, okay Sam… But how do I fix it?”

“Knowing your best friend? Man you better get an idea fast.” Sam shook his head, tsking softly. “I got a feeling gloves are off, and I can’t say we don’t deserve it.”

And yeah, Steve’s pretty sure he can’t say that either. But… “The kid though, Sam. Tony, as a kid? He honestly thought I’d hurt him.”

“Yeah man, I know.” At this Sam can't help but feel some nerves himself, fidgeting as he eyed his flight rig. He remembers how fast Tony was troubleshooting it, even as alien as it should have been, and how the kid had looked at him with a blend of annoyance and fear. Tony was mad he'd broken the flight rig, though he didn't recognize it as his own work. He just saw it as someone's hard work, and that Sam maybe hadn't done his best by it. The kid called him on it too, knew how to fix the problem, but at the same time there was a wariness to it... Like he knew not to offer, like it had been beaten into him not to speak to adults or offer opinions in a situation like that. “I saw that.”

“How do I fix that?”

“Wish I knew, Steve… I wish I knew.” Sam sighed, leaning back in his seat and tilting his head until he was staring at the ceiling.

“Sam… you know that going home is gonna be bad, right?”

“Yeah Steve, I know. I was right there with you when we brought him in, remember?”

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, rubbing his hands over his face again. “But last time he was happy to see me. This time? I don’t think we’re gonna be that lucky.”

Sam groaned, feeling the bottom drop out of his stomach. “Son of a _bitch_ , this is gonna _suck_.”

Yeah. That about covered it.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the words of Rocket Raccoon? _Writhe, Little Man, writhe.._


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team lands back at the tower, Bruce wakes up, and throws down (verbally, for now).

The QuinJet’s return flight is otherwise peaceful. Between Tasha and Clint the jet lands smoothly, wings folding up, the entire lift sinking down into the built-in hanger Tony designed and added on his last remodel. The team is silent, low on moral or caught in their own thoughts or a blend of the two, as they pack their gear and quietly trudge down the ramp into the hanger.

Even Steve feels weary, mutely dreading having to carry a still unconscious Banner out of the hold and down to medical to sleep off his latest transportation. Luckily, just as he reaches the med-cot the Doctor sits upright, dark hair in disarray and eyes still squinted. Abruptly reminded of how Tony reacts similarly when startled out of a catnap in the shop –and just how long it’s been since he’s actually seen that- Steve dredges up a smile and hands Bruce his glasses.

“Alright there, Banner?” He murmurs, catching Bruce’s elbow when it seemed like the other man may fall over at his first attempt to stand. When it seems like the scientist isn’t quite up to responding, Steve gently leads him out of the jet and to the elevator car.

“Mhmm.” Bruce finally mumbles, listing into Steve’s shoulder as the doors close. “Just tired.”

“Yeah, we might have guessed that.” Tasha murmurs, coolly amused in her corner of the car as the doors close and it begins to descend. “You missed the excitement, cleanup, and the entire flight back.”

“There was excitement?” Bruce manages to ask around a yawn, raking a hand through his hair and only adding to the disarray. “What happened? Wait, we're missing some of the team. Did someone get hurt?”

“We’re not entirely sure.” The redheaded spy admits, chewing at the inside of her lip in a rare show of concern. “Things started out fine, at first.”

“No one is injured, Doctor Banner. Mister Stark appears to have run afoul of an object or activated a curse while doing his best to strip and destroy the data banks at this latest Hydra base.” The Vision chimes in, eyes distant and fixed on a point near the ceiling. “We cannot be sure as an examination in the field was not, advisable, considering the circumstances. To all appearances he has been regressed to the physical and mental status of a child, approximately seven years old. Interaction would indicate that he retains his sense of self, but his previous adult experiences are not known to him.”

“He… You… What?” Bruce appears to be waking up, his eyes gone wide and confused. “Where is he? Rhodes?”

“Master Stark became, unsettled when introduced to the team.” Vision responds delicately, glancing at Steve and Clint respectively. “It was decided that it would be best if he remained behind with Colonel Rhodes and Thor, and they will return to the tower at their own pace. Any actual examinations or medical procedures would be best done here at the Tower, once his medical proxies have been contacted and their approval given.”

"I am attempting to reach them now." FRIDAY volunteers, but otherwise refuses to make further comment. Instead she focuses on streaming the conversation to the Soldier, relishing in the icy smile it brings to his face. 

“You left a seven year old in a field holding an old Hydra base, with only Rhodes and Thor to keep him safe?” Bruce reached out, smacking the control panel to halt the elevator car. Stark engineered, the car halted smoothly and soundlessly even as the team braced themselves for a jarring halt. “What in the hell is wrong with you? Steve, you let them do this?”

“Bruce-” Steve sputtered, lifting one hand in a placating gesture. “You don’t know-”

Looking a little green around the edges, Bruce cut him off. “He’s a _kid_ , Steve, what’s there to know? You left a child in unarmed territory with only two guards? What if there are more combatants? Do you know what HYDRA could do with Tony Stark under their control? Especially a young Tony Stark, growing up in their hands? They could get fifty years of earth-shattering technology and weapons out of him. Do you want to guess what they could do with those sort of resources?”

Before the Captain could speak, Bruce spun to fix his eyes on Sam, poking the man in the chest without regard for the green creeping up his arms and neck. “You! You were running a VA, do you or do you not have experience with regards to soldiers that have undergone traumatic tours in foreign countries as well as those that suffer from PTSD due to their service?”

“I, well, I do.” Sam stuttered, wide eyed as the scientist pokes him again. “But it wasn’t my call, and Vision is right, the kid didn’t want any of us close.”

"Why would he?" Banner interjected sharply. 

“Not that we blame him for that.” Tasha cuts in smoothly, leaning against her corner of the car and idly considering her nails. “Considering the situation, the team at present, and the reaction of the kid, the best thing for us to do was to leave them alone so Tony could calm down before they came back here. Besides, we were under orders.”

“You were under orders.” Bruce echoes, disapproval in his tone and eyes narrowed. “Whose orders?”

The elevator speaker came to life with FRIDAY’s coolly lilting tones. “That would be Base Ops. If you’re all quite through? Doctor Banner is required in medical for his assessment.”

“Sorry, Friday.” Bruce grits out, giving the team a glare before he turns his attention to one of the AI's cameras. “Please, continue. This can wait until I’m cleared, and hopefully the others will be along soon to get Tony through medical.”

“I assure you that the Boss will be taken care of.” FRIDAY returns in a neatly evasive statement, the doors whispering open for medical. “If you’ll proceed to your usual operatory, Doctor Banner? All items were laid out for you ahead of time, including clothes. I’ll ensure the rest of the team reach their destination and then the elevator car will be back for you.”

“Thank you, FRIDAY.” Bruce sighs, shuffling toward the operatory with a final glance over his shoulder. “Steve? We are talking about this later.”

“Ok.” Steve sighs, leaning against the elevator wall when the doors hiss shut. “I can’t wait.”

“Welcome to being in charge.” Tasha replies blandly. “You’re welcome to turn the reins over any time you like.”

"How exactly would that work?" The Captain wondered. "Who would even take over?"

"Seems like your boy handled it just fine in the field with his robot girlfriend." Clint muttered.

"Mr. Barton, you would do well to remember I control all aspects of life within this building." FRIDAY returned in a falsely pleasant tone that made Vision duck his head. " _All_ of them. Do try to keep it in mind, won't you?"

Steve, watching the floor numbers fly by for the personal suites, glances upward as he directs his question to the AI currently in charge.

“FRIDAY?” He mumbled, glancing around warily. “What’s going on?”

A moment later the car comes to a halt, the floor number matching one of the communal floors. Tasha straightens from her post against the wall, but Clint seems to fold in on himself in an effort to make a smaller target. At Steve’s side, Sam stands resolute, quiet and clenching empty hands as he had left the Falcon Pack in the hanger so Stark could repair it later. Steve has his Shield, but he still feels naked and unarmored with his armor and cowl left behind in the hanger. Tasha seems to feel likewise, her hands clenching on empty air where her gun belt usually sits. Event Clint lacks his bow and quiver full of arrows, Vision never uses weapons and an argument could be made that Wanda  _was_ a weapon. Steve feels outmaneuvered and outgunned and he doesn't like it at all.

This should be his _home_ , after all. He should be comfortable here.

FRIDAY drops the temperature slightly in the hopes that the chill will work its way into the team's spines, keeps her tone professional when she responds.

“The Soldier would like to speak with you, Captain.” FRIDAY replied briskly as the doors slid open. “I trust this is no surprise? If you’ll please disembark, loitering in the elevator is a fire hazard.”

“Yeah, I’ll just bet it is.” Clint mumbled.

“You should be more careful.” FRIDAY murmured, her tone a mix of mild annoyance and a bland sort of disinterest. “It would be unfortunate for an accident to occur with everyone still standing in the car.”

“I should think that’s quite enough of that.” Vision tsked.

“I should think your opinion doesn’t rightly matter, at the moment.” FRIDAY sniped back. “If you’ll please get out of the elevator, Doctor Banner will be needing it shortly and all of _you_ have somewhere to be.”

Sighing, Steve is one of the first to step out of the car. Sam, glances up at him in a look that is part question –in the lift of his eyebrows- and part resolution –mostly in the set of his mouth and jaw- before following. Wherever Steve goes, Sam will follow. He, like Steve, is somewhat resigned to his fate. It’s no more than they deserve.

Wanda remains in the car, eying the open doors with trepidation as she shuffles closer to Clint.  

After Steve and Sam, Natasha is the first to step out of the car. Instead of lingering in the foyer-like space to give the others confidence she strides down the hall, shaking her head as reaches the doors that lead to the living area. “No point in wasting time.”

“Easy for you to say.” Clint mumbles, waiting a moment before slinking after her.

“If you’d shut up when he told you to, you wouldn’t have anything to worry about.” Tasha threw over her shoulder just before she disappeared around the corner. “Instead, you chose to pick on a _child_. You deserve what you get.”

“Well, I didn’t.” Clint sighs. “And hearing you agree with him just makes me feel worse. So yes, now I worry.”

Steve looked at the blond archer, with his expression of abject misery and his slumped shoulders, and huffed out a breath. “Listen, it’s been a long time coming. There have been a lot of things that we’re all guilty of, starting with constantly dragging down everything Tony does or says. I’m not saying this from a blameless position, either, I admit I’ve done it to. But, Bucky was right. That’s not fair of us, and we owe some apologies as well as reparations for our past behavior. All that considered, we might as well just step into the living room and get this over with.”

“That would make me feel so much better if it wasn’t coming from the only person who is pretty much guaranteed to survive this meeting unscathed.” Clint snarled.

“Clint.” Steve growled warningly. “You did technically disobey a direct order from Base Ops, it wasn’t exactly professional behavior.”  

“We know I’m a model of professional behavior.” Clint shoots back. “Stark isn’t exactly blameless in this.”

“You’re comparing yourself to a civilian.” Sam points out idly. “And usually you behave worse than he does, so it’s really not doing you any favors right now, man. On top of that, he is currently seven years old, and you were a dick to him. That wasn’t his fault, man. That was your choice.”

“Alright, alright, fine. We suck, we say our apology, I get to eat and go to bed.” Clint shrugged. “Let’s get it over with.”

Steve doesn’t bother telling him that it won’t be that simple, he’s pretty sure Clint already knows.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet (and I love?) Bruce Banner! HI BRUCE WELCOME! Also: I put out a vote post on tumblr for what readers wanted updated... And it looks like this was the most requested? Which, wow! Thank you all so much! This is a somewhat short chapter but I hope to have a second chapter for both this and Walk up before next week? So, you should definitely visit me on tumblr and cheer me on. *wink*  
> Also: [Available on Tumblr](http://wakandan-wardog.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha walks into a scenario that wasn't set for her, but she's the only one who might appreciate or understand it anyway. (That doesn't make her feel any better.)

The team continues to bicker as Natasha moves away from them, and quietly she decided she's had about enough of all of it. Such things don't have the opportunity to crop up on a short term SHIELD team, and in a way she misses that. Either way, she's had about enough of her teammates for the day, and she knows that they all still have to get through whatever the Soldier has in store. 

 _I'd almost rather deal with him on my own._ She thinks to herself as she goes. _Let each suffer for our individual sins, not the collective._  

Even individually, she's willing to bet they are damned in the Soldier's eyes. It is just a matter of sentencing, now. Attempting to shake off the budding dread, Natasha leaves the team behind. She can still hear them arguing behind her as she strides down the hall, and with a roll of her eyes and something like relief she abandons them to their squabbling in the foyer. Perhaps the Soldier will be lenient if she arrives alone.

Has the Soldier ever been lenient? His only offerings of mercy were a quick death, at the orders of masters.

Now, with his own freedom? There is no telling what he might do. 

Though the hall and foyer are their usual brightly lit space, rather like the elevator, the minute she turns the corner to the half-open doors that lead to the living room she can see a difference. There are suddenly distinct shadows sprawling about the room, brought on by the fact that several of the recessed bulbs high above are out or off. Tasha would guess that someone forgot to flip a switch, but FRIDAY can control everything in the tower, like JARVIS could. Meaning she was aware the lights were low, and hadn’t taken action to correct the issue.

The stage is set, then, and the AI is a participant in whatever is about to occur. With half the lights out, it allows for a careful blend of light and shadow to dapple the room, fueled by the dusk-sunset colors of the sky beyond the windows. Even the windows themselves are half-shaded, cutting down on the light from nearby skyscrapers and the general glow of New York. Natasha ignores the half-obscured view and doesn’t bother to cling to the shadows, striding toward the seating area at the heart of the room with her chin held high.

She rounds a pair of high-backed chairs and can’t help but hesitate, wavering at the sight of the Soldier as he no-doubt knew she would. She knows he is likely to anticipate each and every move he made, as he trained her and survived far longer in the Red Room than she. Because of this, she cannot help but be still or be predictable. She knows who he is and what he can do, at least better than most of the team can claim. It is because she knows that that she is cautious, distrustful of the open space and a battlefield of his choice. It is better to be wary and to hesitate than it is to stride full-speed into whatever trap he has laid.

Even if he isn’t angered by her, the Soldier isn’t the type to let an opportunity go to waste. If he can handle her in a way that teaches another teammate a lesson, he will. Even with weapons, she can’t hope to be too much of a challenge for him. Not that she is armed enough to dispatch him, not that Steve would allow it if she was. Everything about this screams to Barnes’ advantage, if she turns it into a fight it will go ill for her. She’ll make him work for it all the same, but there are some things that feel inevitable, and such things she would rather not test.  

For all that he doubtlessly knew of their presence before the jet even landed, the Soldier continues the affectation that he’s not aware of her. Courtesy of a carefully directed light, his hands are very clearly illuminated as he grinds a blade on a whetstone, and Natasha’s gaze tracks each stroke. At any moment he can grow tired of the ruse and fling the blade, she knows it’s sharp just as surely as she knows he’ll hit what he aims at. Still, when she tries to read his expression she finds that his face and shoulders are shadowed, partially by the lighting and partially by how his chin is tilted down so he can focus on his work. The goggles and mask are thankfully absent, but that does not mean he is not hunting.

Intellectually, the Widow knows it is so he can watch anyone who enters the room, can decide how to act based on their reactions. It doesn’t make her any more willing to relax. Instead Natasha does what she does best, she analyzes the scene. Beyond the careful staging of light and shadow, the fact that she can’t read his face, that he’s armed and methodical in his treatment of his weapons, she feels that there is a distinctive line being drawn. Steve’s best friend or not, the Soldier has allied himself with Stark, and he does not find their behavior acceptable.

“Soldier.” She murmurs into the silent room. She's careful to keep her hands relaxed at her sides, slightly open, showcasing that she's unarmed and unwilling to make a move toward him. It doesn't mean much, they both know she can change her mind at any time and is just as likely to tell the truth as to lie... But still, it doesn't exactly _hurt_. "Soldier?"

The blade on the whetstone hesitates, then resumes the steady, careful strokes over the stone. Natasha wants to wince, wants to clench her hands or reach for a bladed weapon, but she doesn’t want to show weakness or indicate aggression by doing so. She doesn’t want to incite him into action by reaching for a blade, either. If he has no intention to attack, it would be foolish to change his mind. Instead, she swallows soundlessly and tilts her chin up, considering him without further comment. It feels too much like being called to attention in the Red Room, feels like standing up with several others to either side and silently wondering which of them will die today at the hands of their teacher. 

The Soldier was always a good teacher. His moves efficient, harsh and merciless. But he could be counted on to make a death quick and clean and as painless as possible. Their deaths were a lesson to their classmates, not the method involved. It was easy for him, a snap of their fingers resulted in a twist of his hands resulted in the snap of a neck. The Soldier felt nothing, did not hesitate, did not waver. They shall all strive to be like him, and they might hope to survive.

But this is not quite like that. This is both the same man, and one entirely different. 

Instead of his usual casual clothing, Natasha notices that he’s wearing a new uniform. The black boots aren’t a surprise, neither are the black tactical pants with plenty of pockets and weapons strapped and belted to calf and thigh. The top is armored leather, sleeveless on the left, lighter material on the right. Enough to stop a blade or indirect fire, she’s willing to bet, but breathable in the way that her stealth suits from Tony always seem to be. All in all it isn’t his previous Winter Soldier gear, but it’s similar in a way that suggests Tony designed something new that carries the spirit of the thing without adhering to Hydra’s actual work.

The most surprising thing is the sheer variety of weapons bristle from clips and pockets, attached to the belt around his hips, belted to thigh and calf. There are graceful pistols in thigh holsters on each side, matte black with a subtle imprinted name along the barrel. She can’t read it from here, but she’s willing to bet it’s a match for the custom handguns Tony made her, once upon a time.

And isn’t that telling? Stark made the Winter Soldier weapons. Even more interesting is that FRIDAY gave them to him, which means he’s been in the workshop.

None of them have been allowed down there in... months? Ever?

No, she's fairly certain none of them have been permitted access to the workshop. 

Interesting indeed. 

Natasha takes tentative step closer, watching the smooth movement of his right arm as he sweeps the blade against the stone. The whetstone is held in the gleaming silver fingers of his left hand, the limb carefully calibrated by Stark so that he can accomplish any number of tasks. Currently that seems to be holding a whetstone with just shy of the pressure needed to grind it into dust.

The message is clear even without destruction of useful tools, and the Soldier had always been mindful of equipment. After all, he himself was just another blade or gun for Hydra to use. Their Fist, their weapon, but not wholly irreplaceable. They had tried to replicate him, though the replacements never did as well as their first. It was a fine line to walk, being the best but never straying over into a category from which there was no return. He was functioning, he was useful, he was their threat and their perfect Asset. But now he was free to do whatever he wished, there was no telling what his agenda would be.

“солдат.” She tries instead.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> солдат- Soldier  
> *
> 
> So, someone really upset me tonight and in my rage I'm updating. I'd appreciate some love from all your glorious comments, they keep me running, for real. I hope you enjoy!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Soldier finally gets a hand on Clint, speaks with Steve, and glares at Sam.

Her words slide past him, inconsequential. She’s not the voice in his ear for intel, she’s not his master, she’s not his target, so she doesn’t matter. She’s seen him, but this mission isn’t about stealth so she isn’t a failure, she will bring no penalty down upon him. He doesn’t have to obey her or kill her, so he ignores her.

The Soldier, The Asset, no, James. **James**. For some reason, he had found it far too easy to fall back into character. Not quite the mindless tool, blank minded and awaiting orders in a harsh Russian tongue, but something similar. Something with a quiet mind, a patient hunter, likely to take orders from select masters, but none of them were present at the time. Something with ice in his heart, crystals blooming in his lungs until each breath would hurt if it is not made silently. He can sit with absolute stillness, invisible and overlooked, but why would he in his own territory?

Here he sits in a pool of light, blades singing over stone, guns at his hips, and no one holding a leash. Here he is able to disregard orders, to ignore any who would style themselves as his masters, because he is free. Free and different, in this tower with these weapons and this armor and the soft Irish voice with steel underneath it that tells him everything he needs to know. FRIDAY makes excellent backup.

He’ll go on missions for the rest of his life, however long it may be, if FRIDAY is there helping him gather intel. She’s efficient and whip-smart, swift at calculations and assessments. Her tone is soft in his ear, exclusive to his coms, and when she speaks of the team there is acid under each word. She’s perfect, and he’d tell Tony so if the billionaire were in any sort of place to hear it. As it were, he had told FRIDAY before she’d released the team’s elevator lock, and he’s pretty sure she’d gone bashful on him. It makes warmth pool in his stomach until he shoves it down, burying it in the ice so he can deal with what’s coming.

The warmth is new, something he covets, he vaguely recalls from the short years that exist as before in his fractured memory. But it is not for sharing not for a team that does not deserve it. What little has managed to build up obediently slides away beneath the ice and the burn of fury and the surge of mission when Tasha walks into the room. Oh yes, the Soldier is angry, and here is one of the sources of that. It is time for the manner to be addressed.

“солдат.” She murmurs to him.

He hesitates, leaning forward as ice-grey eyes snap up to her face. “Черная вдова.”

Tasha shifts, inclining her head in a nod. The gesture is stiff and wary, her eyes never leave his face and they are just a hint too wide for her usual regard. She is scared of him, and she well should be, though she’s not the one he’s hunting tonight. He almost cares to tell her so, but as he prepares to speak, Clint Barton steps into the room.

The Soldier knows he surprises both the SHIELD spies when he moves. Even Natasha who has known him much of her life, clever little Natalia whom he trained and fought beside, even she is stunned by the speed at which he crosses the room. Barton is not two strides into the room before James is across the empty space and past her, pinning the archer to the wall with his metal hand before she can say a word. The section of wall they crash into is off to the left side of the main doors, and though he loathes to give anyone his back he lets Tasha have it because he can still watch her out of the corner of his eye if he turns slightly. He thinks she is probably not foolish enough to move against him.

Besides, FRIDAY is watching. She does not trust the team; she’ll alert him or take action if the Widow makes a move they don’t want. Content in this, the Soldier rolls his flesh shoulder and flips the blade idly over and around his fingers, curling his lips in a snarl when he sees the archer take note.

In an act that may be the most intelligent move he’s ever made, Clint Barton remains notably silent.

“Natalia.” The Soldier continues, voice low and rumbling. “You have not disappointed me today… I think it best you go to your rooms.”

“You can’t fight the whole team.” She responds in a tone barely over a whisper. “Do you honestly plan to? To fight Steve? He is your best friend.”

As she speaks Clint begins to struggle, his hands rising to claw at the arm. The Soldier gives him a bored look, disregarding the distant sensation, a knee rising to block the frantic kicks that the Archer makes in an attempt for his freedom. Pathetic, as hand to hand combat skills go; he had expected better.

It’s easy enough to step inside the reach, to press the knife to his hipbone and snarl. “You need not walk to listen to me, continue and I will begin to break the limbs you carelessly lash in my direction. Am I clear?”

Clint goes still, giving a faint nod. He’s still clutching at the metal wrist, his eyes wide. “C-clear.”

“James, please.” Natalia is trying to reason with him, and he longs to roll his eyes and reach for a pistol. But she is not the one who has upset him, who has upset Tony. He grinds his teeth and considers it.

“James.”

“Yes, yes, I heard you. I cannot fight the whole team, you say. I wonder, is there a need for me to do so?” The Soldier eyes her, arching a brow when there is no reason forthcoming. “You know full well that you should not underestimate me.”

“He’s your friend, James.” Tasha reminds him.

Clint’s good behavior has once again worn off, and the Soldier sighs internally when the blond begins to flail. The Soldier barely resists the urge to roll his eyes as he tugs weakly at the metal arm once again. Perhaps a little tauntingly, James pretends to relax his grip and then snaps it tighter, a warning curl of his thumb digging in behind the archer's ear.

“This? This is not my friend. This is one of the Captain’s men, one of SHIELD’s men, but he is nothing to me. Though they are few, James may have had friends, I will not argue this. But the Soldier? The Soldier did not. Does not.” He warns her with a flash of icy eyes and a faint tightening of his grip around the gently flailing archer. “Continue to vex me and I will cut off all oxygen.”

Natalia knew he did not ever make idle threats. Her frantic look and fluttering hand gesture to the Archer made that clear, but her words continued to be delivered in an even tone and directed to the Soldier. “What do you plan to do with him? With any of them?”

“I will do what is necessary.” He replied with a shrug, gracefully sliding the blade back to place at his back. “You should go, Natalia.”

His flesh hand reached up and gripped one of Clint’s wrists, peeling it away from his metal arm and releasing it. “Endeavor to make yourself less annoying, not more, Archer.”

“If I want to stay?”

“You will not interfere.” The Soldier warned. “Or you will be shot.”

“Fair, but I-“

“No but, Natalia.” The Soldier warned, and when the Archer lashed out with a fist he lost his patience. “What did I just say? And still, you insist on trying my patience…”

Tasha could see it, but she was still strides away and unable to catch him before he was in motion. Instead she could only lunge forward and shout. “Soldier, no!”

*

Steve hears Tasha raise her voice, giving Sam a panicked look before he lunges down the hallway. Natasha rarely sounds concerned, and the fact that her barked words are partially a command partially a plea doesn't really bode well for anyone. As he sprints down the short passage and rounds the corner to the half-open doors he has to wonder how they wound up here, the two of them so clearly on opposite sides of an issue. 

Bucky had been harsh and detached on the coms in the field. His short tone with Steve aside, he had threatened Clint and growled at Tasha, and whatever he'd said to Wanda made her face go pale and drawn. Even now Steve knows she's lingering by the elevator, close to Vision, reluctant to go anywhere near the Soldier. When Steve had tried to catch her attention on the flight home she'd avoided him, her eyes focused down on her fingers where they tangled around each other in her lap. 

Still, he leaves her behind with Vision and Sam, scrambling into the room to find a figure that's more Winter Soldier than Bucky. Tasha is half-way between the door and a near corner of the room, one hand reached out. The Soldier has clearly warned her off, and he pins Clint to the wall with his shining metal hand and his teeth bared in warning. 

*

As the Widow darted forward the Soldier slipped sideways out of reach, dragging the Archer along the marble wall and letting up for just a moment before smacking him back into the cold stone. Eyes gone a little blank because of the sudden dizziness, Clint flailed weakly in the hold, both hands rising to catch at the metal wrist and try to pry it away from his neck. “Whoa, hey-now, I-“

“You stand, Natalia! And you? No talking.” Winter admonished, tightening his grip slightly. “No kicking, no hitting, no biting, or I begin stabbing. Is this in any way unclear? Only listening, understood?”

His right hand raised, slipped behind him to the sheath and swept the blade free again. With a glance to make sure Tasha was not reaching for him, he turned back to Clint, laying the sharpened blade flat along the blond man’s cheek. “Listening?”

“Right.” Clint wheezed. “Listening.”

“Good.” The Soldier praises, but it’s dry and biting. “Stark, you will leave him alone, understood?”

“Bucky!” Steve stumbled through the doorway a moment later, reaching out one hand. “Buck, please-”

There is no sign of the rest of the team, but the Soldier is willing to bet that the Captain told them to stand down. No doubt he would rather put himself in the line of fire than his more fragile fellows, though the Soldier is far more likely to shoot them than Steve. Such things considered, Steve’s gesture does nothing but make annoyance curl the edge of the Soldier’s mouth. The Captain doesn’t see or understand it, but there’s a low flutter of static over the coms like FRIDAY has huffed in annoyance.

It is… pleasant? Nearly rewarding to have allies.

“Don’t hurt Clint.” Steve pleads.

“If he stops being an idiot, I won’t have to.” The reply is more ‘Barnes’ than the Soldier, but it abruptly vanishes as the Soldier tightens his grip in warning, and eyes the Captain. “Stand there, no closer.”

“Buck-”

“Steve, just do what he says.” Tasha advises gently, catching the Captain’s elbow in one hand and holding him back. “Soldier, we’ll stand here, just let Clint breathe?”

“He can breathe fine.” The Soldier informs her with a sneer. “Though perhaps not much longer. If he was wise, he would do so quietly enough that he can listen, as I will not warn him again.”

Steve stands still, but reaches out an entreating hand. “Let him go, Buck.”

“Stop calling me that.” The Soldier growled, grey eyes flashing pale as he threw a glare to the blond soldier. “Enough. Enough of this, of all of it. Enough of the charade of teamwork and compassion and the honor of a Captain. You are all of you terrible teammates, sneering and dismissive, disloyal, backstabbing. I grab this one and suddenly you are all concern and rushing in to handle things. But when he verbally attacks a defenseless child, you do nothing.”

“Tony is hardly innocent.” Steve points out, bitter and confused and unable to help the sulky look he gives.

At his back, Sam appears and seems to sigh heavily, mumbling under his breath. “Steve, that’s not really helpful right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> солдат- Soldier  
> Черная вдова- Black Widow
> 
> (Native Speakers, if this is incorrect please feel free to gently nudge me and advise. POLITELY. As many authors are, I work with what resources I have.)
> 
> Got a hefty chapter for you guys, hope you enjoy!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best time to have _a little talk_ with your so-called team is when you have one of them by the throat... Right? In which the Soldier has words for the Witch, and Vision, and a few more glares for the rest of the team. (But no one dies, so really Steve should just be grateful and gracious about the whole thing.)

“Steve, you gotta think this through, man.” Sam continues in a murmur, curling a cautionary hand around the Captain’s elbow. “The Soldier thinks we’re a threat to Tony, which means we’ve done something to give him that idea. Instead of blaming him for his reaction, address and correct the behavior that made him feel that way in the first place.”

“Now?” Steve hisses.

“At least make a start of it!” Sam retorts. “Don’t blow this off, man, we don’t want to make it worse.”

A moment later Wanda arrives, Vision close to her side.

 _‘Speaking of making it worse.’_ FRIDAY remarks in the Soldier’s ear.

“I don’t understand why he’s acting like this.” Steve argues, stubborn to a fault. “He hasn’t even spent time around Tony! I don’t know why he’s fixated on him _now_.”

 _‘Yes, I suppose the only person you’re allowed to be loyal to in the tower is him.’_ FRIDAY’s tone is bitter as she speculates, but he can’t address it right now. There isn’t time for it, right now, with the ones he considers _enemy_ filling the doorway.

It’s easier to ignore Sam, and Steve, and their little hissed argument about his behavior and alliance. Instead he focuses on the newly arrived Wanda and Vision. Eying them, it is annoying to both the Soldier and FRIDAY that he would take their side. That Vision, the only remaining link to JARVIS, would stand against Tony. Would stand on a field opposite FRIDAY, the bots, his family. For what? For the witch? For the love he claims to bear her? And what of the love for his family?

The Soldier pushes it all aside for the moment. Carefully ignoring the urge to grind his teeth, he focuses on Steve and what needs to be said.

Words are usually hard, for the Soldier. Perhaps it is because they forbidden in the Red Room, under the rule of HYDRA. He was not a person, was not human; nothing more than an object, a weapon to be wielded. Weapons did not speak nor think, nor did they have a say in when or how or where they were deployed. They accomplished a task, and that was the end of it. So the Soldier was not used to speech, was not used to the freedom to say what vexed him.

But here, here things were different. Here he could say what he wanted, what he needed to say. Here there was no one to punish him when he did so. Here, he was _free_.

 _‘Tony is hardly innocent.’_ Steve says, and the Soldier wants to roll his eyes, wants to lash out, wants to laugh or to scream or to reach for a weapon.

He does none of those. Instead, he draws a deep breath and speaks.

“That is what you choose to take away from all of this?” He wonders. “Truly, it is on that which you focus?”

He sighs, shaking his head. “Consider me disappointed. I would have thought you had more sense than to play that game with me. You want to speak to me of those who are hardly innocent, _Captain_? Very well, let us consider some of your teammates, shall we?”

He makes a show of considering the room, gaze sweeping over each of them in turn. The Widow is first, the one with skills most like his own, the easiest to disregard. He’s not here to fight with her today, nor she with him. “We’ll leave Natalia out of it, as I feel like she at least has made an attempt to make amends for previous actions.”

Natalia inclines her head, shifts slightly to a more relaxed stance. The Soldier doesn’t respond to it, turning toward the group standing in the open doorway and barely stifling the urge to bare his teeth and snarl. “And the Hawk is in hand, no need to worry about him. So, who better to start with than your pet witch?”

He feels Barton relax in his hold, going passive perhaps because he's not currently afraid with Wanda as a focus. _'I am not done with you, but what needs to be said needs no audience.'_

For her part, Wanda flinches, at his expression or the term he uses for her, he is unsure. It is of little consequence, but he files it away for review later. For the moment, he would rather press on before she thinks to start whining. “So then, the Witch. It should be of no surprise to you that I can find nothing positive to say of her. I would think even an untrained eye could perceive her to be a sulky, petulant, revenge-driven child. In an effort to accomplish revenge on a man who never personally wronged her, she became a volunteer for Hydra. They responded by giving her powers beyond her control, and I assure you she was tested and set loose upon captives and enemies without hesitation. She was well-versed in her gifts well before she ever sought to use them on any of you.”

He turns his eyes back to Barton, wondering if the man even has the intelligence to guess at how he’s been manipulated, or if he really is so caught in her doe-eyed stare that he actually believes. The archer looks a mix of scared and confused, clearly not yet believing what he’s hearing but past the urge to thrash and escape. It’s not ideal, but he appears to be listening.

The Soldier glances back to the Witch with a glare, baring his teeth. “Certainly she wouldn’t tell you that, though, it hardly helps her little babe in the woods guise. I wonder then if she showed any remorse for how she unleashed her gifts upon enemies of Hydra? Did she admit half the things she delightedly inflicted upon their prisoners. Did she so much as apologize? No, because she loved every moment of pain she was permitted to inflict. Her skills are honed, her torments well-practiced, though control was clearly never an interest to her.”

“Bucky, maybe now isn’t the time?” Steve tries to intervene again, lifting an entreating hand and reaching out toward the Soldier.

“Isn’t it?” The Soldier wonders, glaring at the Witch as a familiar red glow fills her hands. “Why not? She is proving me correct, even now. Showing that she cannot control herself. I am sure she was overjoyed at the opportunity to toy with Stark’s mind on the various occasions she has had. It is no wonder at all that when she comes here, she thinks she is entitled to more of the same. Who among you has told her no?”

He would wait here, would pause to let them all realize that the answer is none, but he’s not sure he’ll begin again if he does stop. Words are still, unfamiliar. Troublesome. But they cut at his throat until he can’t help but set them free, flinging them across the room until they hit their targets. “So then, she tortures a man day after day, but lives in his house and eats his food and wears and uses all matter of things he pays or invents or designs or makes for her. And her preferred method of thanks? To spit venom at him at every turn.”

“That’s not fair!” Wanda interjects, silencing when Vision curls a hand over her shoulder.

“Is it not?” The Soldier huffs, flashes his teeth again, warns her with his eyes that he’s not to be trifled with. “Nothing I said was untrue, there are hundreds of security tapes that show evidence of this should you wish me to trot it out. Will you argue against them? Physical proof. Hundreds of recordings, and you would say I am unfair? This tower despises you, possibly more than I, so do choose your words carefully. You are welcome to go elsewhere, I would even say encouraged.”

“You do not have the authority, Mr. Barnes.” Vision interjects.

“You don’t really know who has what authority, so I’d watch your mouth if I were you.” FRIDAY cuts in, cool and sharp. “She is not welcome here, and I’ll say so as many times as you like. I’ve had enough of her attacking the boss. It stops now, she gets stopped, or she gets out.”

“I haven’t done anything!” Wanda argues, her tone weak and whining.

“We both know that isn’t true.” FRIDAY replies coolly, her tone going scathing a moment later. “And if _The Vision_ was paying attention, he’d have to admit he knows it too.”

“Don’t pick on Vihz!”

Wanda reminds him of a petulant teenager and he dearly wishes to go for her head.  

 _We could kill her._ A Shadow inside him thinks, a fraction of the Red Room’s creature still alive and well in his gut, everything else assimilated but that. _We could kill her… slowly, as she deserves._

Instead, he grits his teeth and snarls. “Spare me your lies, Witchling. And this so-called team? All of you appear deaf to it, because this man is Tony Stark. You seem to believe he deserves it, if you acknowledge it at all. But I do not believe that. I will not allow it, and this house is not deaf. We have had enough, Captain, enough of your team and the sham of it all. Enough of the arrogance and the lies and the secrets and the utter gall you have to spit on someone who has done so much for you. I have had **enough** , and it stops here. **It stops here**.”

His voice is sharp and growling, the last words flat and definitive. An ultimatum, an oath, a threat. The room is silent other than Clint’s soft, frantic inhales and the creak of leather when Steve shifts in place. When no one says anything, the Soldier snorts and gives the archer a shake. “Am I understood?”

Wheezing where he’s still pinned to the wall, Clint lifts a shake hand and offers a thumbs up. “Understood. Crystal clear.”

“Good.” The Soldier murmurs, and drops him without hesitation.

Clint scrambles out of reach, a hand cupped protectively over his abused throat as he darts around Steve and into the cluster of bodies waiting safely behind the Captain. Sam gives him a look as he darts past, then turns his gaze back to the Soldier and gives a faint nod.

So then, he at least can tell the Archer was not permanently harmed. At least one of them is paying attention. The Soldier considers Wilson for a moment, and returns the nod with a faint dip of his chin. Accepted.

Steve sighs, shoulders slumping as the rest of the team nervously clusters in the hallway. He glances back to see them welcoming Clint back into their midst and looking nervously toward Natasha who still stands by herself in the room. The Soldier cannot stand to look at either of them, so he turns his back on them all.

“Watching.” FRIDAY promises softly.

The Soldier conceals a smile, but has to concede: Yes, he is unspeakably fond of her.

Steve clears his throat. “I-”

“Need to reevaluate how you interact with this team.” The Soldier advises carelessly over his shoulder, stalking back across the room to the couch. He casually settles back into his seat, producing both the knife and the whetstone. Resuming the careful strokes of the blade against the stone, he doesn’t bother looking up as he speaks. “Was there anything else?”

FRIDAY notes how the team trades a few nervous looks, and Sam eventually sighs and shakes his head. “Dude, you have to work out a better way to interact with your teammates.”

There’s a flutter of static in the com at his ear, but FRIDAY keeps her ire to herself. The Soldier fades away, leaving James a little more relaxed in his mind than before, but weariness weighting at his bones. These people are foolish and exhausting, and the tension they inspire in him his something akin to physical weight. He wants to throw it out the nearest window and not have to deal with it again.

A pity it’s not a viable option.

Amused, James snorts and rolls his eyes. “You aren’t my teammates. You may not even be Avengers for much longer, if you don’t get your act together. Why don’t you go to your rooms and think about that? Thor and Rhodes won’t be long, and I don’t want you to upset the kid.”

When they linger, he bares his teeth and reaches for his gun, voice low and growling. “ **Shoo**.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James talks to Sam (who he's struggling not to like) and Steve (the opposite problem) and feels like he makes no progress. He sends Steve away with the equivalent of "go to your room and think about what you did", and decides Friday is his favorite being in the tower right now (for lots of reasons).

At his growl, what little courage remained seems to have left them. Wanda turns and bolts first, Vision following at her heels looking worried. The fact that he’s more concerned for her feelings than anything else is telling, to the Soldier at least. FRIDAY gives a little discontent murmur in his ear, reporting that they’ve found their way to the elevator without difficulty.

 _‘Should they have trouble on their way to their floor?’_ She asks, still a little spiky. _‘Just a jostle. Drop ‘em a floor or two? They complain about boss’s tech so much, even when it doesn’t malfunction, I feel they deserve it.’_

He’s wildly fond of her, and wishes Tony were in a place where he could share this story with the billionaire and have it be appreciated. As it stands he sighs and shakes his head, his tone low. “нет, Spitfire. Let them be for now, let them think we are merciful.”

 _‘One toe out of line.’_ She warns, dark and discontent. _‘A **toe** , you understand?’_

“I understand.” He soothes, and he does. He’s about over them all too, so he can’t blame her. “You know I’ll help you hide the bodies.”

_‘That makes you my favorite, right after the Boss.’_

The comment probably shouldn’t make him feel warm inside, but it does.

Damn, but she makes him want to smile. He swallows it, staring at Wilson as the man lingers. “Gonna give you the benefit of the doubt, and say that you’ve told everyone they need a better way to communicate with the team. But you know the best way to affect change is to start with a catalyst, and this is the one least likely to result in bodies. They fuck with the kid when he gets here? It’s over.”

Sam hesitates for a moment, then nods, showing he understands.

It makes something in the Soldier relax, just a little. His tone is less sharp when he continues. “I don’t have a bone to pick with you right now, I hear you finally got your head out of your ass… That don’t mean you’re in the clear, though.”

“Yeah, seems like everyone’s in your sights right now.” Wilson retorts blandly, glancing toward Steve. “Cap, you cool?”

“Yeah Sam, I’m fine.” Steve replies waving the Falcon off. “See you later.”

“Sure.” Sam murmurs, leaving with a final glance. “You boys play nice.”

The Soldier bares his teeth. “You’re not my dad or my boss, Flyboy.”

“Don’t I know it?” Sam huffs in response and withdraws without another word.

James is trying not to like him.

“Buck.” Steve murmurs, disapproval in his tone again. “Why are you being like this?”

“Better question.” The Soldier counters, sitting back on the couch and leaning back in an affectation of nonchalance. “Steve, what the fuck is going on with this team?”

The blond man blinks at him, looking baffled. “Wha-”

“Steve, I swear to God.” James started then stopped, growling to himself. “Don’t you ask me what I mean, or I’ll climb off this sofa and throw you around. Cut the crap, will ya?”

“Why are you so upset about this?”

“Because none of the rest of you seem to give a _damn_!” James bursts out, leaping to his feet. “What the _fuck_ , Steve? This is supposed to be your team. If all the Commandos decided to be assholes to me, you would have flipped your shit. You telling me, if me and all the boys suddenly decided to tear Gabe Jones down at every turn, you wouldn’t say something? Or if we all started in on Dum Dum? It’s the same goddamn thing, except you all owe Stark even more, because he’s feeding you and clothing you and putting you up! But none of you so much as think of thanking him, you tear him apart and nothing he does is ever good enough. I got no clue why he puts up with your bullshit.”

“Buck-”

“Just, just stop it, will ya?” The fight drains out of him the next moment, and James runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t even look at you right now, the Soldier wants your head sitting on the coffee table something awful. The only reason it ain’t is because I don’t wanna scare the kid when he finally gets here. So just, do me a favor, Stevie? Go to your floor, shower, put on clothes that don’t have your damn uniform pattern or your damn shield or your damn super hero title… and just think about what you’ve been letting this team get away with, ok? Go away.”

“Bucky-” Steve tries again, his tone soft and hurt.

“Go, Steve. I’m mad at you and the Soldier wants you dead, just go. I gotta take care of Tony when he gets here, and I mean it, I don’t wanna look at you right now.”       

Steve droops a bit, shoulders sinking, and he sighs. “Alright, Buck… If that’s what you want.”

“I want you to think about what you’ve been letting happen in this building and on this team, Stevie. Because the kid I knew growing up? He wouldn’t have stood that bullshit for a minute. Rich or not, Tony’s still the little guy in this scenario, and y’all are a bunch of bullies.” James replies quietly. “Your mother would be ashamed of you.”

Steve flinches, glancing up with a soft, injured look. When there’s no reply, no softening in the Soldier’s stance, he nods and retreats. The Soldier watches him leave, disappearing down the hall, and doesn’t relax until FRIDAY whispers in his ear.

“He’s in the elevator and gone.”

“Alright, good. Let’s get me out of this gear and get things ready for your Boss’s arrival, huh?”

“Sounds good, Soldier.” She murmurs. “By the way, Dr. Banner wanted me to pass along a message. I feel it’s important to explain that he was watching, through the tower security cameras.”

“Banner?” The Soldier hesitates, tilting his head questioningly. “What did he say?”

“He told me to tell you _‘Nice work’_ , and he says he’ll see you in the morning, with Boss.”

“Alright then, sounds good.” He ducks his head, smiling faintly. “Hey FRIDAY? Tell him thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting after a bit of a break because some people showed up in comments and decided to be assholes. Comments are now moderated, as I'd like everyone to be able to enjoy the experience. Note, if you're old enough to be on this website, you're old enough to just leave if you don't like something. Let's be nice, shall we? 
> 
> Dear, devoted readers: I hope you enjoyed. Dog show this week, but replies and updates as fast as I can, as always.  
> ~Wardog  
> P.S. WAIT TSB JUST GOT TO 2200 KUDOS? OH MY GOSH! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our chapter begins with a visit back to Rhodey and Tony and Thor: The God of Thunder introduces himself, entertains tiny IronMan, and gives James Rhodes a stress ulcer (or two). Meanwhile, in New York, James tries to work through his anger and Steve takes a second shot at talking to his best friend.

Rhodey finds that he has nothing to say to the Avengers as he watches them pack their gear and step onto the QuinJet. In Steve’s defense he is the last person on the jet, hesitating on the rear door to glace back at Rhodey and Tony one last time. Still, with Tony in his arms and Thor at his back, Rhodey can’t think of a gesture he’d give the Captain to send him on his way. In the end he just turns his back, focusing on Tony and Thor.

It’s about time someone focused on Tony, he figures.

He knows Bucky is hissing commands to Steve and one or two of the others, FRIDAY has him patched into the coms so he can listen to the cool slice of each word. Whatever’s going on back in New York right now, the Soldier is active, his tongue sharp even when he talks to Steve in a way that Rhodey’s never heard Bucky be… at least not before today.

He finds his esteem for the other James rising, thinks that it’s too bad Tony’s missing out on the way the Soldier dismantles the team via coms.

“Busy day, huh?” Rhodes grins at Tony, jostling the boy to make him look up. “Once the Jet is off we’ll start making our own way back... but I thought we’d get something to eat on the way. What do you think?”

“Yeah…” Tony mumbles. “Okay.”

Thor remains out of reach but within earshot, watching them silently. There’s a sorrowful look on his face, a bit like someone kicked a golden retriever and the dog is just trying to figure out what it did wrong. Rhodey sighs, he really is not cut out for this sort of thing.

When the Quinjet is no longer in sight, Rhodey puts on a smile and gives Tony a playful jostle. “Alright, Iron Kid.”

“Alright what?” Tony wonders, tilting his head in question.

Rhodey nods to Thor, giving Tony a conspiratory look. “He’s gonna fly you home, if that’s alright?”

 “He can _fly_?” Tony turns away from where he’s gazing after the departing jet, staring at Thor once again.

“Shoots lightning too, he’s pretty cool.” Rhodey nods.

“Can you show me the lightning thing?” There’s a widening of big brown eyes and a giant grin on Tony’s face. He’s clearly delighted by the idea.

Classic Tony, really.  

Thor beams back, hefting Mjolnir high as clouds begin to roll in. “Of course!”

Rhodey sighs. “Aww man, Barnes is gonna _love_ this.” 

There's not a good way to ask either of them to not mention this to Barnes, though, so Rhodey doesn't bother. Instead, he tries on about seven different excuses and three distraction techniques in a mental conversation. None of them last long against his mental projection of Barnes, so he gives up. It's much more enjoyable to focus on being happy that Tony's attitude seems to have brightened without Captain America looming over him. 

Then again, this is the sort of attitude that leads him to spending the next thirty minutes minutes watching Thor call down lightning, throw Mjolnir, and make Tony shriek with delight. By the time he’s taken the kid and started doing leaps and short flights with him, showing him what the lightning looks like from the air, Rhodes starting to panic a little. It’s cute, but for most of it he’s back to thinking of ways to ask the kid that they _not_ tell Barnes about this whole thing.

“Maybe he won’t ask what we were doing?” He murmurs hopefully to himself.

The fact that FRIDAY laughs in his ear probably isn’t the best sign.

Across the field, Thor leaps into the air again and a tiny Tony Stark screams delightedly. 

(James Rhodes might be in trouble.)

*

James finds that he can’t wind down, no matter what he tries to focus on to find some semblance of calm. The images of Wanda harassing Tony keep playing in the back of his head, along with the anger at Steve and Clint and Vision, and the choices they’ve made. When he begins to think about today’s Op, about how he could have lost Tony instead of the current scenario where he’s just waiting for the kid to be brought safely home…

The cup he’s holding shatters in his hand, and he heaves a sigh. “Hey, FRIDAY?”

“There are a fleet of Roombas, Soldier.” The AI replies kindly. “Why don’t you go to the gym and work through a heavy bag while they clean up the mess? I promise that I’ll hail you when they’re a half-hour out so you can clean up, if you haven’t calmed down by then.”

“Ya know what?” James nods to himself, stepping away from the puddle of tea and broken ceramic shards that lay at his feet. “That sounds good, Doll.”

“Yeah, I thought it might.” She chirps fondly. “Have a good workout, Soldier.”

 

James is half-way through his second bag -this time an IronMan special since even Captain America’s bags don’t hold up to his new arm- when he realizes he’s no longer alone in the gym. He doesn’t react at first, focusing on striking with his wrapped right fist, returning to starting position, striking again. His shoulders and upper back have relaxed some, tension bleeding away as he works. Awareness marches up his spine in its stead, but he continues pounding on the bag for a few more minutes.

Waiting for them to make the first move.

Steve doesn’t disappoint, because Steve is an impatient son of a bitch. Steve’s also stubborn as hell, which doesn’t always work in his favor. Today it just means that he’s back to say whatever he’s thought of in the last hour, but at least James is calm enough to not kill him for it. When James glances back over his shoulder at the Captain he can't help but relax slightly. At least Steve's showered and is in plain workout clothes; his tee is a serviceable grey with no red, white or blue in sight.

Maybe he was listening after all. 

“Buck?” Steve mutters, clearing his throat. “Can we talk?”

“I really don’t like bein’ called that anymore, ya know.” James replies without turning, landing another hit before spinning to land a kick. The bag swings with the impact and he dances back out of range, tossing Steve another look. “If I say no will you leave me be?”

“Since when?” Steve blink at him, baffled. “And, uh, probably not?”

“Since I woke up from a 70 year coma-slash-horror-show and don’t feel like anything that I used to be, maybe?" James darts forward, lands another hit on the bag, dances back to give it a kick. "So you asked but you meant _‘I want to talk and you’ll have to listen because I won’t take no for an answer, but I’m going to phrase it like a question for the illusion of manners.’_ , right?”

He pauses for a minute, then gives a nod. “Good to know. By all means, carry on.”

“Buck, that ain’t fair.”

“I said I don’t like that.” The brunet Soldier reports blandly. “You could at least make an effort, _Steven_.”

“ _James_.” Steve grits out.

“Well, you managed that.” James shrugs, stretching his right arm across his chest and folding his metal palm over his elbow as he stretches the muscles out. “Fine Steve, if you ain’t gonna let it go until you say your piece, say it. If you’re just gonna wind me up again, I’d appreciate the chance to break things and come down before the kid gets here.”

“Why are you so hung up on Tony?!”

Damn it, he's had _enough_ of this. James whips around, his tone gone snappish. “Someone’s gotta care about the kid, Steve!”

“I care!”

“Do you really, Steve? Do you care about the kid, or do you just care that your _troublemaker_ of a teammate _got himself deaged_ and now it’s _more work for you_?” James fires back, pointing in the Captain's direction before dropping his arm back to his side with a glare. “Because I’ll be honest, it doesn’t seem like you care about _Tony_ from where I’m standin’!”

Steve looks like he’s been hit, going still and wide-eyed. “That ain’t fair.”

“No?” James wonders, voice gone soft again. “How much of what you guys put on Stark is fair, Steve? How much attention to do you really pay to how you guys treat the guy? How much of his money you spend? How much of his money he spends on your gear, on your food, on medical when you get hurt... Then let's talk about how you exclude him at every turn. You ridicule his every decision. You smack him in the face with an example of how he's _'done you wrong_ ' any time he even thinks of disagreeing. How you spit on his hospitality and trample on his feelings. Do you even notice, Steve?”

“I don’t know what to say to that.” Steve says in a quiet tone. “But I care about Tony, I do.”

“Not enough, damn it!” James fires back. “I used to know you better than my own damn self, Steve. I’d swear by that. And I might, still, because my brain’s been fucked five ways to Sunday and the last seventy years is just a hell of a mystery and a mass of nightmares on the best of days. So maybe I do know you more than myself… But you ain’t actin’ like the kid I know, so I don’t know what you want from me.”

“If… If I was actin’ like him, would we still be friends?”

“We’re friends, Steve.” James sighs. “We’re brothers. But I’m mad at you, and I may not like you very much right now. That doesn't mean we just, _stop_. But, you gotta help me out, I can’t be the only one that knows this is a problem. And it can’t continue, Steve. Because now this is a kid. You can’t tell me you don’t think Tony hasn’t suffered. You can’t add to that; you’re a better man than that… Or you were, when I knew you.”

Steve nods sadly, scuffing at the mats. “I’d like to think I still am.”

“Then prove it, Steve. Prove it to Tony, and to me… But right now? Let me finish working out in peace, ok?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, backing away. “Ok, James.”

“Ok.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which FRIDAY and James talk, and finally Thor and Rhodes arrive with Tony.

Steve withdraws, leaving when James turns his back and goes back to wailing on a punching bag. Whether he intends to pay such close attention or not, James clearly hears the doors swing closed behind the departing form of his best friend. He’s alone and it seems like maybe he’s actually won the argument, but it doesn’t quite feel like victory.

“FRIDAY? We’re now waiting for the ‘other shoe’, alright?” He says between strikes, trying to keep the weariness out of his tone.

“Copy that, Soldier.” FRIDAY returns, her tone understanding rather than chirpy.

She lets several minutes pass without a comment, then interrupts with a static whisper like she’s clearing her throat. “Any chance you’ll shower and eat something before the Boss gets home?”

James lands a final hit and catches the bag as it swings back, tossing sweat-damp hair out of his eyes. “You tryin’ to manage me, Doll?”

“Just trying to make sure you’re ready to handle the Boss.” She admits, though she doesn’t sound apologetic by any means. “They should be here soon.”

“Alright, alright, I’m goin’.” He can’t help but smile as he shuffles toward the door, unsurprised to find the elevator waiting for him. “But don’t think we ain’t gonna talk about this.”

“My processors are all aflutter, Soldier.”

“Sass, sass, sass.” James sighs as he leans against the wall of the elevator. “That’s the problem with your Stark kids.”

Her tone goes a little smug. “Don’t I know it.”

*

Rhodey could almost cry as the tower comes into view, the lights gleaming and FRIDAY murmuring a gentle greeting over his coms. She tells him that Barnes is waiting and no one else is in sight, which is good because Tony’s sacked out in Thor’s arms. Not surprising, considering everything he’s been through today and the fact that the sky has long-ago gone dark. The closer they’d gotten to the city the less-clear the stars had become, but at least the Tower glowed welcomingly.

“Barnes is waiting for us.” Rhodey switches through his external speakers to inform Thor. “Go ahead and take him down, I’ll catch up with you.”

Thor, for his part, is fondly amused by the sleeping child and actually working not to wake him. Instead of his shout he gives a nod, touching down on the balcony of the tower with graceful steps. At the sight of Barnes he gives a nod, shifting the sleeping Stark and re-wrapping him in the bright crimson cloak when the fabric begins to slip. Rhodey zips past the veranda with a wave, aiming for the removal rig a floor up. James gives a casual salute and then steps toward Thor as he watches the suit pass by.

“You ditchin’ me, Rhodes?”

“Gimme a break, Barnes.” Rhodey grumbled his reply. “I’ll meet ya, alright?”

 “Gonna slip into something a little more comfortable, first?” James teases before he can stop himself.

“You wish, Barnes.”

“I really, really don’t.” He replies in his flattest tone, turning his eyes to the kid sleeping soundly in Thor’s arms. Seeing that he’s out, he nods a greeting to the Asgardian. “Thor.”

“Barnes.” Thor nods affably.

“Have a nice flight?” James makes himself ask, remaining where he stands, arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the windows.

He wants to step forward and take Tony away from the god, and the fact that he _does_ probably means he _shouldn’t_.

“Indeed, the youth of Iron took well to the clouds!” Thor grinned. “He does his ancestors credit with his bravery and spirit.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Tony…” James nods. “When did he fall asleep?”

“He grew chilled as dusk began to fall.” Thor admitted. “We stopped for sustenance and I thought it best if he wrapped up for the rest of the flight. I would say he’s been asleep for the better part of an hour?”

James can hardly see any of the kid, just a wind-whipped mass of curls and sooty lashes against pale skin. He’s half-tucked into the wraps of Thor’s cape, his nose and the rest of his face hidden from the breeze. James want’s to hurry them inside before the rest of the team realizes they’re there, hide Tony away while the three of them and FRIDAY sort this out. His hands flex and tighten against the impulse.

“Any progress here?” Rhodes asks over coms, a much-appreciated distraction.

James grinds his teeth. “Is _‘not as much as one might hope’_ clear enough?”

“In the sense that it’s marvelously obscure and makes me think I should keep my suit on?” Rhodes replies in a bland tone. “Sure, _crystal_.”

“Like FRIDAY won’t lock the house down so you can go suit up, if you need to. Please.”

Rhodes can almost hear the rolling eyes. “Hey man, that kinda attitude? Not helpful right now. Get on the helpful train, give me good news.”

“Steve went to his room?”

“Alright, I’ll take it. It’s good, it’s news…” Rhodey sighed. “Not all I’d hoped for, but I’ll take it man.”

Rhodes should watch out, James –and The Soldier?- might start liking him. He shakes it off, unlocking his arms and stepping forward gracefully. Thor doesn’t react, doesn’t see him as a threat, his stance still relaxed and open as he easily holds Tony to his chest.

James can’t get over it. The kid looks so small, soft and tousle-haired, half-disappearing in the deep crimson of the Asgardian’s cape. It’d be a picture, if they were documenting such things. Were they documenting such things? Seemed like dangerous data to have, he’d need to talk to FRIDAY about it. But maybe later, after. For some reason the tension won’t leave and James wants to cuddle the boy close; wants to retreat to someplace defensible and have FRIDAY make sure Tony’s okay.

“Need me to take him?” The Soldier shuffles forward, clad in a worn tee and soft sweatpants, his damp hair pulled back in a tail.

Blue eyes skate over the boy again and then dart up to meet Thor’s gaze for a moment, before drifting back down. The kid is honestly out like a light, wrapped in the deep red fabric, tucked under Thor’s chin. James shouldn’t but he wants to hold the kid, to make sure he’s safe. The sliver of perspective that James attributes to the Soldier wants to kill eighty percent of the people in his immediate vicinity to ensure it, so at least one of them is approaching what you might call stable behavior.

“If you have obtained a meal, it would not go amiss.” Thor murmurs. “I admit I am most famished. I was sporting elsewhere before Heimdall told me there were issues that might require my attention. Even so, I grant you, I did not foresee this.”

“There’s food, FRIDAY had one of your usual orders sent up to the executive kitchen on this floor. Rhodey’s got food too.” James supplies. “Hand him over and go to town, I’ll take the rest of the night shift.”

“I will require some assistance.” Thor grins. “He may keep the cape for now, I can retrieve it later.”

James nods, carefully prying a warm but clingy Iron Kid off of Thor’s chest and half-out of the cape in the course of untangling his fingers from the god’s armor. Tony grumbles but octopus-wraps around the nearest thing, tucking his face into James’s throat as his arms wrap around the soldier’s neck and legs around his waist. The kid is practically a monkey, transferring from Thor to James and clinging to him in seconds, all without ever waking. Thor’s cape trails down to the floor, half abandoned as Tony presses his face to Jame’s throat.

Hell, he’s adorable, and something in James wants to keep him.

Most of James wants to keep him, strangely enough.

He settles for wrapping his arms around the kid lightly, pressing his cheek to soft black curls. Something in him unspools, tension drifting away now that Tony is safely returned to the tower. _I got him, FRIDAY, he’s okay… Now we just gotta fix this…_

Out loud he keeps his distant tone, polite but slightly cool. “You said that you guys at least stopped and got him something to eat?”

“I wish I had a cellphone for the video of Thor taking tiny Iron Man to McDonalds.” Rhodes says gravely over coms. “I don’t… But I wish I did. Do you know how many Happy Meals this guy can put away? _So many_ , Barnes. And he’s still hungry.”

“That’s not a unit of measurement.” James points out.

“I was charged with bearing precious cargo back to the homestead.” Thor argues playfully. “A feast would not be amiss.”

“A feast you will have, provided by the good lady FRIDAY.”

“Stark hospitality is always of the highest caliber.” Thor grins. “My thanks to Lady FRIDAY.”

“Before we get to the feast, and speaking of the precious cargo though.” James murmurs, stroking the boy’s back when it seems like he’s stirring. “I hope I wasn’t the only one racking my brain and trying to figure out how to reverse this? I get that the best way to turn him back might be just, undoing what happened… But none of us really know? I mean, Rhodes, you were in that room, did you get any sense of what could have done it?”

James Rhodes is at least in sight sighs, shaking his head as he waits for the rig to remove the War Machine boots. It takes a moment longer than the Iron Man suits, and then he’s walking down normal stairs to greet them. “Wish I knew what to tell you, Barnes. I mean, I bet FRIDAY pulled the footage for you, but both those room were wrecked by the time I got there. I’m sure part of it was Hydra, and part of it was Tony; but none of it was unscathed. No clear artifact that said ‘I’m what you want’. I don’t know what happened or how he wound up like this. Might have been some weird de-age ray, might have been an artifact, some magic spell or something, there’s just no telling.”

James nodded understandingly, for it was no more than he was expecting. With a sigh, he shot Thor an inquiring glance, untangling the cape and offering it back to the god. “I hear you’re magic… Is this not something you can help with?”

“I admit, I spent a great deal of our journey considering the matter from all perceivable sides.” Thor rumbles, taking it with a pleased nod. “To me, our young Stark seems to give off a faint aura of magic. Helpful, though I cannot say if a spell was cast upon him, or an artifact was disturbed, or if an artifact was used to build a ray, as you call it.”

“Should you usually be able to sense that sorta thing?” Barnes blinks at him, baffled and impressed.

Thor puffs up a bit, proud in spite of the situation.

“I spent much time in the company of those who spellcast, upon Asgard.” The god admits, then seems to wilt a little. “But I, myself, am no magician. My mother could be certain, for one. Or any of her ladies.”

“Don’t seem to have them around.” James points out with a sigh.

Thor wilts a bit more, and James almost feels bad about it. “Nay, we do not. I can only admit to what I see, or what I do not. While versed, I am by no means an expert.”

“So we don’t have a way to narrow down the cause right now.” Rhodes sighs as he clears the last of the stairs and moved diagonally both toward them and the doors. “Wanna move this inside? Alright, do you have an idea on who we can go to for help in this situation?”

“I do, but you won’t like it… Truth be told, I must call Loki if anyone.” Thor sighs, striding toward the door as he hooks his cape back into place, fingers fidgeting with the fabric. “He has not our mother’s skill with magic, but it is the nearest thing in all the realms. If any can assist, it is he.”

“Loki is our best option.” Rhodes murmurs, his tone heavy with doubt as he gives Thor a flat look and draws to a halt. “Really? _Loki_? Are things that bad?”

“Do you know any other with magic?” Thor inquires archly.

The Soldier turns to look at him, eyes icy grey, a very specific behavior set on the border of wresting control from James. “Would you rather we let Wanda get her hands on him?”

Rhodes winces, and even Thor shifts nervously.

“Friend Barnes?”

The Soldier longs for weapons, feeling like even the thought of the Witch near this small boy calls for him to have a knife in hand. He thinks loudly that it was a pity James accounted for such urges, and put them all away after their very public scolding of the archer. James ignores the impulses firing in his brain his well as the shadowed part of his soul growling for a fight. He can’t afford that, right now.  Instead he focuses on rubbing his cheek against Tony’s hair to remind himself where his focus should be.

 _‘Can’t scare the kid, Winter.’_ He fights the urge to tighten his grip on the body sleeping so trustingly in his hold.

Of course the Soldier knows that. Stark is, delicate, in this form. Has spent far too much time afraid of his team, with no one in his corner. No more of that, not now that they are here. The Soldier will stand at his back, will stand armed to the teeth. Let one single member of the so-called Team even _think_ to cross him, and he will dispatch them mercilessly.

Stark grumbles and James hefts him a little closer, turning his head to murmur soothingly into his dark curls. The kid’s hair is cool, smells a bit like rain, wind-whipped soft and riotous. There’s a scent like static, probably from Thor, a hint of sharp cologne and maybe a hint of engine grease, though he’s pretty sure that’s from the shirt the kid is wearing. Maybe when he was in his lab, maybe when he was tearing around the Hydra base, the Soldier couldn’t be sure. But it’s Tony all over.

“You’re alright.” He rumbles softly. “I have you, you’re alright, Tony.”

Feet away, Rhodey and Thor are bickering.

“Of course I’m not handing Tony to Wanda.” Rhodes argues, folding his arms over his chest. “Especially not tiny Tony, whether he remembers that trauma or not. I just… Loki’s loyalties are unknown, he’s a problem.”

“Be that as it may, my brother stands to be our best hope for restoring our Shield Brother to his more robust self.” Thor points out. “Though he may seem inscrutable, Loki has since calmed since his previous attempts to control the Earth.”

“Calm or not, we still can’t trust him.” Rhodey argues. “His loyalties are only to himself, he’s an egotistical, capricious spirit of chaos and mischief. Letting him near Tony in a defenseless state? There’s no telling what he’d do.”

“Half the tower fits under one section of that description or another, currently, and the rest of them try my patience on a daily basis.” Barnes retorts as he gently strokes Tony’s back when the boy stirs, cradling the kid close as he settles again. “Thor, Loki? Alright, how likely is he to help?”

“Knowing Loki?” Thor shrugs. “It varies from moment to moment, but he holds the Man of Iron in high esteem.”

“Does he now?” Barnes glances down at the sleeping kid, then over at James Rhodes.

The soldier is frowning, both thoughtful and worried, as his gaze rests on his young friend. When he notices Barnes's look he just shrugs. “Tony’s beaten him once, gotten a few hits on him another time. I buy Loki respecting that.”

“Aye, beating my brother in combat is no small thing.” Thor agrees. “But Anthony’s skill in wordsmithing, as well as his true craft, are also not to be overlooked. On Asgard, he would be a highly desirable partner.”

“Don’t tell him that when he’s aged back up,” Rhodey begs. “Please. I can’t deal with having to chase him through the Nine Realms.”

“A pity, he would be welcomed as a hero on my world.” Thor sighs. “The feasts alone make me envious.”

“Yeah we’ve got our own feast, how about we get to it?” Rhodey tosses his head toward the elevator. “Come on, big guy, let’s get you something to eat. FRIDAY?”

“The elevator is waiting for you, Colonel Rhodes.”

The man nods, satisfied, and glances back to James with a faint frown. “You good, Barnes?”

“Hmm?” James looks up, pausing in his careful stroking of the boy’s hair with his metal hand. “Oh, yeah… When you guys get food I think I’ll take him to the library to sleep? FRIDAY can put on a movie or something and I’ll sit with him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, you just got back from a call out. You need food and rest, and I slept while you were gone.” James nods. “I’ve got first StarkWatch, but once you’ve eaten you get to go talk to my obstinate best friend.”

“Wait a minute, is it too late to trade?” Rhodey smiles as he and Thor step into the elevator. “I’d rather starve and be exhausted.”

“I’m making an executive decision.” Barnes sasses right back. “I did my round with Steve. Now it’s your turn. Iron Kid can’t be as annoying as him.”

“No.” Rhodes looks softly at the boy. “No, he’s really sweet… Hey, Barnes? Be careful. This Tony has already lived with about four years of Howard’s disappointment and three years of his resentment. He’s fragile, okay?”

Barnes clenches his jaw and then nods. “Yeah… Ok. I’ll talk to FRIDAY about it, and we’ll take care of him until you’ve rested up.”

“Alright then. You protect my best friend, I’ll go sock yours.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tap tap* Is this thing on?


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FRIDAY arranges for a movie, Tony learns you can't fake out the Winter Soldier, and James Rhodes is a damn good friend.

After depositing Thor and Rhodes on a common floor to get food, FRIDAY brings the elevator back to the penthouse floor for the Soldier and a still-sleeping Stark. James steps into the car without hesitation, planting his back against a wall and smiling at how the interior of the car has been dimmed.

“Smart move, my girl.” James smiles up at one of her cameras, giving a wink. “What would I do without you?”

“They usually are.” FRIDAY retorts softly as she lets them out on the library floor with a slight dial-up of the lights. “Thankfully, we don’t have to find out, now do we? No one else is on this floor, Soldier, and if they ask where you are I am prepared to give them quite the run-around.”

“The best gal,” James nods, gently resituating Tony on his hip and carrying him toward the back of the library.

At the back wall, he smiles faintly at the sight of the large cabinet, amused once again at these little quirks of fancy he’s slowly starting to see are pure Tony. It’s no surprise that these elements of whimsy are hidden, it’s more of a shock that they survived in Tony at all. The more James learns about the billionaire, the more he wants to pick the guy up and bolt, tear off somewhere into the world and not stop until they’re somewhere no one knows them. Maybe then he could actually keep Tony safe.

Maybe doesn’t do a soldier much good, but James allows himself the comforting thought nonetheless. Gently nudging the cabinet doors wide he slips inside, pulling them closed after him as he totes the boy into the reading nook. FRIDAY already has the lights turned down to a soft glow and a movie queued up, which seems like approval from the AI.

“You’re really something, FRIDAY. Always three steps ahead, huh?”

“Only two, I’m trying to give you a hand.” FRIDAY teased. “How does he seem?”

“He’s alright, Girly,” James mutters as he wades into the pit of pillows. “We’ll get him sorted out and back to you, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Soldier,” FRIDAY replied in a soft tone. “I hope it’s soon. I miss him.”

“Yeah, I’m beginning to see why you might.” James tossed a smile up at the ceiling while gently trying to detangle the clinging Starkling from his torso. Tony grumbles in annoyance, clinging even harder. “Kid, are you part octopus?”

“Rhodes has said something similar before.” FRIDAY offers helpfully. “You’re better off just laying down and letting him decide to move when he wants.”

James sighs, reaching out with one hand to drag a beanbag chair close to the pillow pit edge. Sitting down with the beanbag at his back, he relines enough to get a good look at the screen and heaves another sigh. At the lack of movement, Tony makes a contented noise and burrows his face further into the curl of James’s throat, sighing and going still. It’s an aware, soft of stillness, rather than an unconscious one.

James waits several minutes, listening to the boy’s breathing fall into a manufactured pattern of calm, then groans with exaggerated drama. He rolls his eyes up at FRIDAY, giving the ceiling a warning look. “If you’re going to pretend to be asleep, save us both the trouble, huh sport?”

When there’s no reply the Winter Soldier lifts a hand, rubbing his face as he mutters. “C’ mon Tony, I’m not buying it.”

FRIDAY might just be laughing, but she’s polite enough not to do so out loud.

Against James's chest, there's a sigh. "How'd you know?"

"It's my superpower." The Soldier replies blandly. _'I kill people and I know things.'_

There are another few moments of quiet, and then Tony slides to one side and sits up, looking at the soldier with dark, somber eyes. “You weren’t in the field.”

On one hand, James thinks he passed some sort of initial test. There’s no way Tony isn’t armed in some fashion, and if he didn’t stick a blade in one of James’s organs when he was skin-close, then he probably won’t unless James gives him cause. Still, the way the boy sidles just out of arm’s length and looks at him calculatingly is enough. The Soldier can recognize the sharpness in those dark eyes, does his best to say relaxed and sprawled to telegraph intent.

“Naw, I was Base Ops.” James offers in his gentlest voice. “War Machine radioed me when he rescued you, remember? He called me Winter Soldier.”

Tony tilted his head thoughtfully, looking more sleepy than cautious as time passed. He was too young to be learning how to lie like that, in James’s mind… But that spoke to the life the kid had led, not to his choices in the matter.

There’s a tilt of a childish head and a flicker of dark eyes beneath dark bangs as Tony considers him. “What’s your name?”

“I’m James.” The Soldier offers, shifting a bit in the pillow pit since he can, without the kid clinging to him. He still keeps his posture open, relaxed, hands clearly in sight so Tony can see he’s not going for a weapon. “So is War Machine, but he’s usually Rhodes or ‘Rhodey’… I’m Barnes, sometimes, but usually Soldier.”

“James Barnes,” Tony echoes, eyes going wide, the sleepy façade gone in an instant. Tony’s bouncing up onto his knees in the pillow pit, pointing square at James’s chest. “Hey! I know you! You’re Bucky! Peggy talked about you!”

“Eh, well, I was?” James grins bashfully at the kid. “But I knew Peggy Carter if that’s who ya mean. Heck of a lady, no doubt. I remember her still, even though there are some parts of my past I can’t quite reach yet.”

The sudden burst of energy softens, the boy going quiet as he considers the words. James lets him work through it, waiting for whatever comes next. Unsurprisingly, Tony glanced at the metal arm. “… that hurt didn’t it?”

The boy's hand flies up to his own chest like there's a pain in his sternum. 

 _‘Just like Tony, doesn’t pull his punches.’_ James thinks ruefully as he nods. “Yeah kid, it hurt.”

Tony let his hand fall away, masking the vulnerable gesture, and nodded then tilted his head curiously. “Is it true you once punched my dad?”

“More than once, kid.” The Soldier admitted in a mutter. “And if I’d known, well, I probably would have hit him more than I did.”

The joy kindles right back up for a second, a smile on Tony’s face and a light in his eyes. James wishes it would last, but he can already see it fading.

“You were friends with Cap though…” The small spark of joy Tony was expressing is abruptly smothered. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

“Sure I was… Still am, most days, if I’m honest.” James offers in a gentle voice. “So yeah, he’s here… But I’d like to think I’m your friend too. So if you don’t want to see Steve, you don’t gotta see Steve. You don’t gotta get within three floors of him if you don’t want to. FRIDAY and I can make that happen.”

FRIDAY gives an agreeable murmur over the speakers, and James is willing to bet she likes the idea immensely. Knowing her, it probably would require elevator drops for the rest of the team.

“You don’t gotta see the rest of the team if you don’t want to, either. But Tony? Whatever you may think of him? He wouldn’t hurt a kid…”

“I’m not just any kid.” Tony pointed out glumly. “Dad told me that Cap would never approve of me.”

“You dad doesn’t know Steve as well as he’d like.” James is fighting to keep his voice gentle with no hint of anger, fighting to not go sock Steve on the jaw or find out if someone can raise Howard Stark from the dead for the Soldier to have words with. “All that aside, I wouldn’t let him hurt you, kid.”

Tony fidgets with the hem of his shirt for a moment and then nods. “I believe you, James.”

And that? Well, that’s a start.

“Good. Hey, since you’re up… How do you feel about pillow forts and movies about robots?”

*

James Rhodes has had time to plan things out on his flight back to New York. When thor took Tony in hand it left him without a project, so he’d started a new one. Mission Sort Cap The Hell Out had at least three stages with a potential additional two. Rhodey didn’t know if he’d need them, but they sure as hell made him smile when he thought about it.

Upon arrival to the Tower and officially turning watch over to Barnes, James Rhodes gives FRIDAY a speaking look while entering the elevator, and nods when he sees a flicker of light that indicates she noticed. Thor is in moderate spirits as they talk of food, and insists that ‘the War Machine’ join him for a meal to celebrate the accomplishment of their task. It’ll only set things back by a half hour or so, so Rhodes agrees.

He talks to Thor, eats well, takes his time. And when he’s ready he bids the Asgardian good night, and steps into the elevator car. “FRIDAY.”

She closes the doors without comment, then fast-tracks him toward his destination with anticipation in her tone. “He’s in the gym on a treadmill, let’s go put him through his paces, Colonel Rhodes.”

“Yeah Girly, let’s go do that.”  

*

Steve Rogers has been trying to run out his frustration for almost an hour before the solitude of the secondary gym is interrupted. He almost misses the whisper-quiet closing of the doors over the sound of the machine he’s currently working on, but he can sense the approach of another Avenger. Before they step into view he thinks it might be Bucky, come to apologize, and hope leaps in his chest.

James Rhodes steps into his field of view, wearing workout clothes and a scathing expression. “Super Soldier like you? I think you can go a little faster. FRIDAY?”

“Of course.” She murmurs cheerfully, kicking up the speed on the treadmill. “This should better suit you, Captain.”

There’s venom in her tone, but Steve resolves to pick up his pace and stay on rather than letting the pair of them get the better of him. Clearly, they have a bone to pick, and maybe if he gets through this conversation they can move on.

“So you’re mad at me too.” He grits out as his stride lengthens to accommodate the higher speed.

It isn’t an all-out sprint yet, FRIDAY knows the height of his workouts after all. But it’s up there, moderated to make him work, and let them talk. Steve can admire the strategy, though the way it feels like betrayal sticks in his throat.

“You’ve been making my best friend’s life hell.” Rhodey points out, his tone low and biting. “You may think that Fury made this team, but I was holding you accountable. You were set up as the leader, you were responsible for the wellbeing of everyone who followed you. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes.” Steve murmurs, increasing pace as he sees numbers on the treadmill climb. FRIDAY keeps tweaking speed and elevation until his muscles begin to protest.

“So you can understand that FRIDAY and are very disappointed in you.” Rhodes continues, beginning to pace back and forth across Steve’s field of vision, from the treadmill he’s on to the next one over, and back. “You, Captain America, a hero. Someone that people looked up to, that my best friend looked up to, in some ways.”

Tony looked up to him?

“The idea of the kid behind Captain America.” Rhodey corrects the thought sharply. “The idea of someone who started out with nothing, the underdog, who did what was right. As a kid, one of the best things he had were stories told to him by his Aunt. Stories about Steve Rogers, not so much the stories about the Captain. Because the Captain? He was Howard’s friend. He was Howard’s ideal. And Howard? Howard beat and starved and abused his son every chance he got, from the moment it was apparent that Tony was going to be _better_ than him. And do you know when that was, Captain?”

FRIDAY makes another adjustment. The speed increases and Steve’s nearly running all out now, he can’t even begin to answer. Doesn’t want to answer.

Rhodes spins to face him, eyes blazing with rage as he slaps the front of the treadmill and leans in close. “My best friend was four the first time he outsmarted his dad, and Howard flew into such a drunken rage he beat that little boy until bones broke and Edwin Jarvis had to lay him out to get him to back off.”

The treadmill slams to a stop, Steve stumbles and falls into the guard rail.

James Rhodes looks at him dispassionately, disapprovingly. “That was the man you called a friend. That was the man you constantly compare Tony to? You disgust me.”

Steve’s breath is panting gasps, a mix of the workout, the shock of the stop and the story. Rhodey turns his back and walks toward the sparring ring, lights flicking on ahead of him as he goes. “Square the fuck up, asshole, you and I have some shit to work through.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo Darlings!  
> I think we can agree the world needs more James Rhodes. I hope you enjoy this new chapter!  
> Also, James's superpower, amiright?  
> ❤️ ~Wardog


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